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The forest was singing. The creak of the wagon wheels and clop of the horse’s hooves created a steady rhythm over which was sprinkled birdsong and squirrel chatter. There was a melody woven from dryad voices and the whir of fairy wings as they darted through the trees. Phineas closed his eyes, wishing he could breathe it all in like air and let it flow into his fingers which were already on the neck of his lute, trying to capture the sound.
On the wagon seat beside him, Ferb shifted ever so slightly. Phineas sighed, knowing what that meant.
“You’re right, Ferb. It is getting dark. We should make camp.”
The wagon rumbled to a stop. Phineas reluctantly slung his lute around to his back and hopped off to look around. They were in a clearing where plenty of adventurers had obviously stopped before. There were wagon tracks and hoof prints on the ground. A couple of logs sat around a cold fire ring. Some dryads waved at them from a distance, but didn’t approach, appearing to be much too invested in the unicorn foal they were feeding apples to.
Phineas and Ferb made quick work of setting up camp. Phineas collected firewood (stopping to customarily ask the dryads their permission to use it) while Ferb unhitched the horse and got out the cooking supplies. Once Phineas had stacked the wood in the firepit, Ferb made finger guns at it and it promptly burst into flames, a trick that Phineas couldn’t help but be slightly jealous of.
“We’ve got beans, carrots, potatoes, pickles, and pears,” Phineas announced rifling through their preserves while Ferb hauled a sack of grain over to the horse. They’d have to stock up in the next town. “Whaddya say, Ferb? Potato and pickle stew? Pears and beans?”
Ferb gave him a look, which Phineas willfully misinterpreted with a grin.
“You’re right. A little of each.” He grabbed a spoon and scooped just that into the pot that Ferb had magically filled with water. Ferb heaved a sigh and started stirring.
While dinner sizzled away, Phineas leaned back to watch as stars started appearing through the tree cover. The sounds of the forest were quieting down. Fairies were either sleeping or finding greener treetops, and the dryads seemed thoroughly disinterested in the humans. The birds were quiet except for the occasional owl.
Nevertheless, Phineas moved his lute to his lap and tried to capture the song again. The notes on the highest string rang out in plinks that could almost be chirps. If he had a bow, he could make a tremolo that imitated the fairies’ flight. It would be so, so close but never quite evoke the same feeling as the real thing. And when he couldn’t quite capture the world in song, Ferb always said that he was searching for the wrong melody. Phineas’s heart wasn’t in this forest. It was much closer to the stars.
“Ya know, Ferb…” He sighed wistfully. “There’s gotta be something out there we haven’t found yet.”
Ferb looked at him questioningly. Phineas didn’t blame him. They had the perfect life, really. No rules, no obligations, free to go wherever they pleased as long as they could find an audience that would give them enough money for food and shelter.
“The traveling life is great and everything, but I just feel like there’s something we’re missing. Like we should be looking for something instead of just wandering around. What if we could do more with our magic than just perform a few illusions or help an old lady’s garden grow? Are we missing out on something big? Is it really enough for you to just use our powers to get our next meal?”
Ferb shrugged. With perfect timing, his stomach growled as if to argue. Phineas chuckled half-heartedly.
“You’ve got a point there.”
He had to admit to himself that he enjoyed what they did. He’d always had an affinity for music, so becoming a bard had been a natural fit for him. But unlike Ferb who could trade magical favors for money, Phineas rarely found occasion to use magic for anything other than enhancing his shows. But just like finding the song in the world around him, he loved crafting the illusions that brought his tales to life.
So why wasn’t it enough anymore?
It’s not the right song, a voice whispered in his head. But then what is?
A scaly nose pushed into his hand breaking him out of his thoughts. He would’ve startled if the sensation wasn’t so familiar.
“Oh, there you are, Perry,” he said scratching the turquoise dragon’s crest as he settled himself in front of the fire. Smoke puffed out of his nostrils as he made a contented snuffling noise and a purr-like rumble started up in his chest. The dragon had been a gift from Wizard Monogram back when Phineas and Ferb were his apprentices. He’d warned them that dragons were prone to wander, but they’d always come back home in the end. So, Phineas and Ferb let Perry come and go as he pleased, always ready with scritches and belly rubs when he returned.
“Oh, thank goodness! The dragon appears to be tame,” a high-pitched voice rang out.
“I wasn’t really gonna eat it,” a much raspier voice said.
Phineas turned to the trees behind him, expecting to see dryads or elves, but the two figures approaching appeared to be human. One had dark skin and curly hair and wore a wizard’s robe. A satchel that was probably a bag of holding, judging from its lack of weight, was slung over his shoulder. The other was stocky and built like a brick wall with no neck to speak of. His eyes were barely visible through the slits in his helmet and there was an axe and a shield strapped to his back.
“Ahoy there fellow travelers!” the wizard, clearly the man who had spoken first said. “We did not mean to startle you.”
“Speak for yourself. I meant to startle ‘em.”
“Hail and well met,” Phineas said. “Care to join us?”
The two strangers made their way over to the logs and made themselves comfortable. Perry lifted his head curiously then curled up again. If he wasn’t bothered, then clearly they were alright.
“Do I smell pickles?” the wizard said.
“That’s dinner,” Phineas replied. “It should be about done soon. Do you like beans, carrots, potatoes, pickles, and pears?”
“Yes?”
“All together?”
“…is there another option?”
“I got jerky,” the wizard’s companion said. Phineas suspected that he was a barbarian, but didn’t want to assume. The man pulled a strip of jerky from somewhere in the many folds of his animal pelts and began munching on it. The wizard wrinkled his nose.
“I will take your mystery stew. Please excuse my companion’s manners. I am Wizard Baljeet and this is Buford the Bully.”
“Don’t let my name fool you. I’m actually very aggressive to cover my insecurities and I pick on those who I perceive as weak to make myself feel powerful.”
Phineas wasn’t sure where the confusion was supposed to lie, but truth in advertising was a good thing he supposed.
“I’m Phineas, and this is my brother Ferb.” Ferb nodded politely and started scooping stew into bowls and passing them around.
“Are you by chance a bard?” Baljeet asked.
“How’d you guess?” Phineas laughed, proudly showing off his lute. The rosewood glowed a carmine hue in the firelight. He’d carved it himself as his final test to graduate from apprenticeship. He’d spent months researching, experimenting, and practicing how to cut out the rose in just the right shape to both resemble a dragon and get the exact sound he wanted.
“It is beautiful,” Baljeet said politely, clearly not well-versed enough to really appreciate the craftmanship. You couldn’t have everything, sadly.
“Thank you. Ferb here is a sorcerer.” Phineas carefully set his lute aside and accepted his own bowl from Ferb. It smelled overwhelmingly of pickles and he guessed it would taste like it too.
“Sorcerer? Those are rare around these parts,” Buford said.
“If you are descended from dragons, would you not both be sorcerers?” Baljeet said.
“Step brothers, technically,” Phineas said with a shrug. “We’re traveling magicians. I perform shows, and Ferb performs miracles. Where do you two hail from?”
“Most recently from Danville in the Tri-kingdom area,” Baljeet said. Phineas tried not to startle at the name of his hometown—there were some things better left behind. “But we too have traveled all over.”
Phineas glanced back at the trees where the two had first appeared behind them and back at his and Ferb’s wagon, parked just off the path through the forest in front of them.
“And you don’t use the road?”
A look passed between Buford and Baljeet—one that spoke of a story both would rather hadn’t happened.
“I told you not to put me in charge of it.”
“We lost our map,” Baljeet sighed.
“But I told you I’ve got a great sense of direction.” Buford raised his bowl to his mouth, loudly downed the rest of his stew, wiped his face with the back of his hand, and belched. “I led us to these guys.”
“You have appeared to have gotten us unlost,” Baljeet admitted begrudgingly.
“Well, where are you going?” Phineas said. “Maybe we could help you get there.”
“We’re going to fight Doofenshmirtz,” Buford said, as if that clarified anything.
Phineas exchanged a look with Ferb who looked equally baffled. On the other hand, Perry’s head shot up and his ear twitched.
“Easy, boy.” Phineas scratched his chin, wishing Perry could really communicate with them. Maybe he’d heard the name wherever he disappeared to every day. “Doofenshmirtz?”
“You haven’t heard of Doofenshmirtz?” Buford said.
“He is an evil warlock who is wreaking havoc in the north kingdom,” Baljeet said, suppressing a shudder.
“Yeah, and the king’s offerin’ a reward for whoever can defeat him,” Buford added. There was a gleam in his eyes. “A bunch of adventurers have been heading north to fight him, but none have succeeded yet. That prize is gonna be mine.”
“Ours,” Baljeet said drily.
“Ain’t that what I said?”
“Adventurers…” Phineas felt his heartbeat picking up like the notes of a lively melody. He pushed his uneaten food aside and picked up his lute, fingers itching to find the tune. He’d heard of people who traveled the three kingdoms, hiring themselves out for quests. It could be anything from fighting monsters to recovering treasure to saving a princess. Anything that took a bit of daring and skill. Why had he never considered it before?
He heard the roar of a manticore in the thrum of a cello.
He heard the clink of diamonds and gold in a tambourine.
He heard the whistle of an enemy’s arrow in the breath of a flute.
His eyes met Ferb’s, and his brother gave him the slightest of nods.
“What if Ferb and I went with you?” he blurted out. “You can keep the prize; we don’t need it,” he rushed to add, seeing Buford open his mouth. “But four heads are better than two, right? We could help you out.”
“And what do you get out of it?” Baljeet said carefully.
“Oh, you know.” Phineas shared a smile with Ferb. “Just peace throughout the land and the joy of adventure.”
Buford and Baljeet studied him as if waiting for a punchline. When they seemed satisfied he wouldn’t change his mind, they looked at each other and shrugged.
“Why not? Your own fault if you get yourself killed over nothin’.”
“You are in.”
“Fantastic! We’ll head north in the morning.”
He saw their dubious expressions out of the corner of his eye, but he couldn’t care less because there was a new song thrumming through his veins. A song of uncertainty and excitement and something new. A song of adventure.
And that seemed to be a song worth living for.