The Fallen Prince That Never Was

by A. G. Higgins

  Chapter 10

  The Dunes of Earthly Time

  Port of Royal Reception

  A beam of golden light lit the Port of Royal Reception. Upon a smooth ground of white marble, a dark vessel prepared to dock as it entered now from beyond the light of day. Thrusters hissed while many a sail began to lower. Drawing out from its bow, a platform fell heavily to the earth as a webbed pair of feet flapped in their stride.

  King Evil’s butler stood in wait alongside a guard of honour – Thud! – All eyes watched on as their King reached the port of land sooner than anticipated?

  Embarrassingly, his Majesty picked himself up for the ground. Three flights of steps wasn’t all that bad. He could edit the fourth out later.

  ‘I trust that you trip went well, your Majesty?’ said his faithful butler.

  King Evil didn’t seem pleased, ‘if you’re looking for the reversed imprint of a crown encircled by the words “Made in China” straight between the eyes,’ he said while eyeing his ring of kingship, ‘it could be arranged...’

  ‘Sorry, your Majesty,’ he replied innocently, ‘perhaps news of your cunning plan maybe more to your liking?’

  ‘Yes, I trust all is as planed my faithful butler?’ replied King Evil, beginning to make his way down the vast aisle of honour.

  ‘Yes, your Majesty, the alliance will soon be at an end,’ he replied delightedly, ‘we have received word that princess and her rebel companions have been captured. As we speak our team of highly skill experts make sail for Traders Port; naturally, awaiting his Majesty’s command.’

  ‘And the Honour Guards...?’ he asked intriguingly.

  ‘Minimum wage extras as requested your majesty,’ confirmed his faithful butler.

  What more could he ask for.

  ‘Excellent,’ replied King Evil, ‘soon everything shall finally fall into place... nothing can stop us now!’

  ‘Your Majesty!’ yelled an intruding messenger, ‘I bring urgent news from the western front – and one double espresso.’

  Well, what’s the point in world domination if it doesn’t come with a few perks?

  ‘This better be good,’ he fumed, ‘otherwise... you’re not getting a tip.’

  When it comes to bad service, nobody likes to pay extra.

  ‘Of course, your Majesty, but if I may...’ Nervously, the messenger unrolled a scroll before him, ‘distress signal received from Captain Wide Front Silver – Last transmission; On route to Traders Port – Attempting to cross the Dunes of Earthly Time – Bracket – Airspace – Close bracket – Storm – Ship Downed – Troublesome kid – Wee buggers have only gone and legged it! – Postscript; whose going to wash the bloody dishes now–dot–dot–dot–question mark – Message terminated.’

  ‘Blast,’ fumed King Evil once more, ‘I thought that I had requested cream on my coffee?!’ He paused awkwardly while sucking his caffeine drenched finger, ‘I’m sorry... what was that you were just saying then?’

  ‘The ship, your Majesty,’ informed his faithful butler, ‘I believe that he is trying to tell you that it has apparently crashed?’

  ‘Those blundering gits,’ said King Evil, ‘you know I would have gone with the Mafia, but they sent me the head of a toy horse, ensuring to send “The Real McCoy” when times were more economically viable?’ He tapped his coffee cup in thought, ‘I suppose just sending her an invitation to dinner would be out of the question?’

  ‘Most likely, your Majesty.’

  ‘Right, that prince charming has crossed me for the last time,’ he began, ‘Send a small recovery crew to aid Captain Silver’s effort of recapture. We must make sure that the princess does not fall under his charm – I want no mistakes this time. And make sure that we get a discount for the inconvenience caused.’

  ‘Yes, your Majesty,’ replied his faithful butler, ‘I shall see to it at once.’

  Discreetly, the messenger gave a cough while attempting to extend his hand. Promptly, King Evil began rummaging for some loose change, ‘oh I’m sorry,’ he said, ‘how much is that exactly?’

  ‘Twenty–four dollars, your Majesty... plus VAT.’

  Suddenly his Majesty seemed to be short–changed. He gestured to his faithful butler, ‘would you...’ he tried, ‘I seem to have come up shot on this one?’

  His butler did the math; his Majesty had come up short every time. Reluctantly, he paid the bill. However, his Majesty could reclaim the expenses later. A dark alleyway and one sharply edged dagger usually worked wonders.

  ‘It seems that we have not a moment to lose,’ said King Evil, ‘you must see that the necessary preparations are in place, should they reach the port before our interception. I will personally take charge of the fleet, and see to it that this boy does not meddle in our affairs again.’

  ‘But of course, your Majesty,’ replied his faithful butler, bowing politely to his Majesty’s leave, ‘as you wish...’

  Only one question remained, when it came to the necessary preparations, would his Majesty prefer a candlelit dinner or something a bit more modern... like duck–tape and instruments of torture?

  Surrounded by a vast sea of dune, the ever so elusive Shiver Me Timber Ship Mates & Co Ltd lay half sunken. The storm had at last cleared, and Captain Silver’s crew had salvaged what remained of his ship as best they could. But standing within the crude hole of his ship’s hull, Captain Silver gazed a far across the dessert with an eye for business. There was no telling how far his captives may have gotten. And though the Bill remained unsettled, for the moment there were more pressing matters at hand.

  ‘Number One,’ he yelled while turning sharply, ‘full report, if you please!’

  ‘Aye, Cap–em,’ replied his First Mate, flicking through his notepad with efficiency, ‘pleased to report that there be no loss to crew save one, Cap–em.’

  ‘One, you say...?’

  ‘Aye, Cap–em, Johnny Boy Sullivan,’ he continued, ‘the poor old bugger lost it wee shy of our lucky escape from the ill sky. A brave lad if ever I saw – Voted employee of the mouth as sure as the sky be blue, Cap–em.’

  ‘Aye, for such said loss is it ours to bear, Number One,’ replied Captain Sliver respectfully, removing his hat as he gazed upon the heavens for a moment of reflection, ‘Dare I be so bold as to ask just how it happened?’

  ‘Splinter, Cap–em...’

  ‘Oh aye, aye...’

  ‘Couldn’t get the wee bugger out of his fan belt,’ he explained, ‘currently, he’s sitting in Med Bay feeling the worst for wear, Cap–em.’

  ‘Aye, that would do it alright,’ agreed Captain Silver, ‘Why don’t you have the men do a wee whip–round, see if there is something that we can do to cheer the old fellow up?’

  ‘Aye, Cap–em,’ replied his First Mate delightedly, ‘say... twenty lashes?’

  ‘Make it twenty–five,’ replied Captain Silver warmly, ‘we wouldn’t want the poor bugger to feel left out, now would we?’

  ‘Mighty kind of you, Cap–em – I’ll see that the men get to it on the double.’

  Captain Silver began now to make his way through his beloved ship, inspecting her damage and current need of repairs. As expected, his First Mate gave a full report, ‘the ship may seem heavily damage at first glance, Cap–em. But she isn’t beyond repair, if we could rummage up enough spare parts. Wilkins has kindly offered his leg to make do as a shaft for the Air Stream System. And old Peterson has volunteered to strap himself to the bow, acting as the ship’s figurehead if need be, Cap–em.’

  ‘Aerr me hearty, it be a fine wee crew we have,’ replied Captain Silver with joy, now heading topside with the fresh air a welcome to his mood. He paused awkwardly. Within a web of rope above, a crew member seemed to be helplessly entangled? ‘Number One,’ he said, ‘pistol, if you will?’

  Bang!

  Somewhere, a rope snapped. To Captain Silver’s surprise, the lookout preached high within the crow’s nest came crashing down.

  Apparently, someone had shot him?<
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  ‘Carry on men; keep up the good work and... so on?’ he screeched, quietly moving on while leaving his First Mate to dispose of the evidence.

  Swiftly, he tucked the pistol behind his back, its smoke barrels suspiciously drifting overhead, ‘Aye, Cap–em,’ he said nervously, ‘but about the escapees, Cap–em... what be such orders?’

  Promptly, the crew began to sneak up behind them both, hands ready to blade if favourable course of order was not to be.

  ‘The ship must be repaired,’ replied Captain Silver gravely, ‘ready to make sail for final voyage. The calculations of such are two and a third of a day, and that is time Number One, that we cannot afford.’

  ‘What do you suggest, Cap–em?’ he asked, the crew keenly wishing to overhear their conversation.

  ‘There is only one thing we can do,’ – blades began to draw – ‘choose two of the finest men we have and send them forth with orders of recapture,’ – pistols raised – ‘Once the ship is fit for sail, we will rejoin their efforts promptly.’

  ‘But Cap–em, we have no hand to spear as it is?’ replied his First Mate worriedly, ‘and the men, Cap–em; orders as such... well?’ he gestured unfavourably.

  Captain Silver turned sharply, all signs of mutiny swiftly vanishing, ‘I am the Captain of this vessel, am I not?’ he asked.

  ‘Aye, Cap–em, Aye...’

  ‘The men loyal and of my command, are they not?’

  ‘Depending on how such persons would look at it, Cap–em... aye.’

  ‘Then there is simply no other option...’

  Click! – Twenty blades and sixteen pistols may have taken a different view?

  ‘Number One,’ screeched Captain Silver, a ring of mutiny seeming to be too close for comfort, ‘it looks like we may have to settle this the old navy way?’

  ‘Aye, Cap–em... Aye?’

  On the bright side, it was nice to see such fine morale amongst the men.

  Throughout the sunlight air a golden coin spun. The “navy way” according to pirates of scoundrel nobility, was none other than the old reliable...best of three!

  Heads – orders of the Captain stood. Tails – putting it bluntly, he could sod off.

  On the first flip the crew moaned. On the second they cheer, but on the third they moan once more much to Captain Silver’s delight.

  Swiftly, a lifeboat lowered over the side of the ship. Duty bound, Captain Silver and his trusted First Mate had little choice but to go with it?

  Fortunately for the crew, good old piracy wasn’t what you might call... a democracy!

  Taking leave of his beloved ship, Captain Silver set out across the Dunes of Earthly Time, while his not so faithful crew seen to the task of repairing his ship. But high above the cast of sail, beyond the crow’s nest to a lone flag of white skull and bone, sat a small clan of Magical Locks – and two rather shook looking gulls?

  There they sat in quietness, eyeing the crew a far below. And there they would wait, until such a time that they would be needed the most.

  A rock hit the earth. Estaru finished loosening his chains, his wrists free form captivity at last. To his side, Suzan let a scream? In the darkness of the cave, the skeleton remains of a person lay crumbled to one side.

  ‘Ease your fears,’ he said, ‘it has been long since this one has troubled anyone.’ He pulled a sword from the pile of bones, wiping down a mass of web about its blade, ‘looks like you have little use for this my friend,’ he said, ‘but perhaps... I may?’

  ‘I wonder who he was?’ asked Zack.

  ‘My guess... a soldier of some kind,’ he replied, ‘they say that long ago a great civil war waged within these canyons. As to who and why, such has been lost to the minds of men. But most likely of his time, he must have sought shelter from a storm just as we.’

  ‘Only he never made it?’ said Cara.

  ‘Evidently...’ Estaru drifted his sight now about the cave. It seemed to him that a series of passageways lay further in, ‘but at least we do not have such troubles to worry about. However, if we are not careful, we could find ourselves lost in here for some time to come?’

  ‘But the way out is only back there,’ said Suzan, pointing to the way that they had entered, ‘and if you think for one moment that I am going anywhere in here with you, you’re sadly mistaken.’

  ‘I think you will find that you have little choice,’ he replied, ‘least not if you want my help?’

  Morku made his way back to the entrance. He didn’t get far.

  ‘Ach, wee crivens, it’s covered in,’ said the Magical Lock, ‘we’re trapped... really good–en too?!’

  Cara refused to take the news well, ‘oh I don’t believe this,’ she said, clawing her way for survival, ‘this is defiantly not my idea of a breakthrough audition!’

  ‘If you insist on leaving the way that you have entered,’ said Estaru, ’then you will drown in a sea of sand before you even see the light of day.’

  ‘And just why is it that you are so keen to help us now?’ asked Suzan, however, she felt that she already knew the answer; ‘or is it that you didn’t really set a price – You felt obligated, didn’t you?’

  ‘Why?’ he replied hastily, casting his sight upon Zack, ‘because the boy gave his trust in me when others would not?’ He looked away stubbornly, ‘relax Lady; I’m only in this for the reward... nothing more.’ Somehow, she didn’t quite believe him. ‘Besides, it looks like we are in this together, least for the moment? As soon as we find a way out of here; trust me, you’re on your own.’ He pointed to the way forward, insisting, ‘now shall we...?’

  Reluctantly Suzan smiled, ‘after you, of course...’ she too insisted.

  However, Zack wasn’t too keen on moving far. It may have had something to do with the barrel of a pistol that pressed hard against his back?

  ‘Taking a man’s belongings when he’s sleeping don’t seem all that right to me?’ said a cold voice, ‘now I ain’t the sharpest knife in poor old Billy Jean’s back, but by the by... you folks look like thieving rebels to me.’

  Estaru froze, eyeing the blade that he had just taken. The undead always did know how to make an entrance. After all, they weren’t the kind you could ignore easily.

  Standing before them, the skeleton remains of the soldier walked into the dim light. A Navy Colt seemed itchy for some target practice as his comrade, Privet Billy Jean Bad Leg, rounded upon the suspected rebels.

  ‘You’ve come across this kind of thing before, right?’ hissed Cara.

  Estaru shrugged his shoulders, ‘truthfully, it’s a first for me?’ he replied.

  ‘I don’t see much rebel colours–Serge?’ said Billy Jean, his Henry Rifle pointing aimlessly about, ‘maybe they’re deserters?’

  ‘Deserters, eh...?’ said Sergeant Hang, ‘by my reckoning that’s a hanging offence in these parts.’

  ‘I fear that there has been a slight misunderstanding,’ interrupted Estaru while cautioning Zack and Suzan to remain still, ‘if I may...’

  ‘Raise them up nice and high best suits you stranger!’ came a swiftly replied, ‘In case you ain’t got much in the way of word; there’s a civil war that sets the mood none too much brightly in these parts, if you catch my meaning?’

  ‘Steady your mind for we mean you no harm.’

  ‘Check there belongings,’ continued Sergeant Hang, not wishing to take any chances, ‘we’ll get to the truth of this none too soon.’ His corpse leaned closer, ‘so stranger, there ain’t no two ways about it... you’re either with us or against us – Which is it going to be?’

  Their choice was simple – hang as a rebel or enlist?

  Either way it was going to be a life sentence.