by Mark Boutros
‘I have no idea.’ He bit his lip; annoyed she was only getting started.
‘Why don’t you know?’
Karl huffed and shook his head. Questions’ tribe, the Inquisos, were honest and had beautiful hearts, but they could only ask questions, and they liked to ask lots of them, about everything.
He decided to change the subject. ‘How did King Sastin die?’ Locking himself in his room had limited the amount of information he had.
‘Did he eat the poison bullfish?’ Questions asked.
King Sastin may have possessed great strength, but his great weakness was love, and he really loved fish. He loved being by the water under the cliffs near Flowforn, scooping fish into his mouth. He didn’t care what fish it was, as long as it slid down his throat in that slimy way. He obviously swallowed the wrong one.
Distant, up-tempo drum and horn music disrupted the crackling of flames and halted the violins. The tap, tap, tap pierced by intermittent toots turned mourners towards Flowforn Arch to seek the source.
‘Probably just more condolence gifts being delivered,’ Sabrinia said. ‘They’ll leave them at the gate.’
The distant blurs were the usual blurs Karl’s eyes could see from this far.
‘Father would want us to carry on living as we are…’ Sabrinia’s words battled the drums and horns, now accompanied by marching. She raised her voice. ‘A free kingdom. A place where dreams can be followed, and a place where—’
‘Quiet!’ A whiny, nasal voice interrupted. The drum and horn music stopped.
The voice didn’t match the cloaked man dominating the arch. Muscles fought for space on his body and a layer of rock covered his fists as though sculpted around them.
‘Who’s that?’ an old man whispered to a fellow mourner.
‘Looks like that Lord Ragnus people ’ave been ramblin’ about, and an army of Fools.’
‘I’m, err… I’m gonna go and take my washing off the line. In case it rains later.’
‘Yeah… yeah… me too.’
The men scurried off.
Questions turned to Karl. ‘Are we in trouble?’
‘I hope not. But his face looks like it’s never met a smile.’
The crowd backed away from the visitors.
Lord Ragnus stood around eight feet tall, twice the size of the four drum and horn wielding Fools next to him. Behind them, there must have been near a hundred Fools armed with spears, spiked clubs and steel swords. Some sat on horned wolves that scanned the Flowfornians for their next meal. The Fools all had grey skin, wore the same shoddy leather armour, and had beady eyes of varying colours. The only difference between them was the size of their noses and ears. They were like shrivelled, rotten, ugly people.
Karl’s heart pounded. Was this what an invasion looked like? He watched Sabrinia, still focused on her father while Flowfornians mumbled among themselves.
‘Quiet!’ the voice repeated, and from behind Lord Ragnus, a cross between a man and a bird emerged. He must have been slightly shorter than Karl.
Karl raised an eyebrow. The thing had a human’s torso and limbs, but a hawk’s head, wings, talons for feet and claws for hands. It was like someone got a man and a hawk and smashed them together, creating a mess of a creature.
‘Is anyone going to open this?’ The creature tapped his shiny, silver axe against the iron bars. He stroked his copper plated armour, etched with the sigil of whatever creature he was, using its talons to crush a skull.
Sabrinia remained fixated on the king. ‘We’re not taking visitors until tomorrow. Now if you don’t mind, I’d like to finish watching my father become ash.’
The creature’s beak curled into a smirk.
Lord Ragnus punched an entrance through the iron gate as though the bars were no tougher than twigs.
Karl’s jaw dropped. The crowd backed towards the alleys.
‘I think you should go and hide,’ Karl told Questions, partly being considerate, but mainly wanting to avoid more questions.
‘But what about Sabrinia?’
‘She’d want you to be safe.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘It’s better you look after the others.’
Questions nodded at Karl and snuck away with other Flowfornians.
The creature strutted towards Sabrinia as though the world stopped to watch him. He dragged his axe through the pebbles.
Sabrinia refused to acknowledge him.
Lombus stood in front of her and folded his arms.
The creature coughed. ‘I’m sure you’ve all heard of me. I’m…’ He wheezed, struggling to breathe. ‘The Supreme Man-Hawk, Arazod.’ He looked over the crowd but nobody reacted. He tutted. ‘No? What about my magical axe? You must have heard of the Soul Bleeder? The sharpest axe in all of Hastovia? Slices through everything?’
Still no reaction.
‘I go from kingdom to kingdom, destroying things? For fun!’
Still nothing.
Sabrinia lifted her head and turned to Arazod. ‘I know who you are. But as I mentioned, we’re not taking visitors until tomorrow.’
Arazod chuckled. ‘Very well.’ He raised an apologetic arm. ‘It’s a shame King Sastin is dead. Lord Ragnus was looking for a worthy opponent.’
Lord Ragnus played with a green horn on his necklace, no doubt a trophy from an unfortunate creature.
‘We’ll leave you. But first…’ Arazod coughed. He opened one of his wings. The other twitched as though wounded. ‘We’ll burn his kingdom with him!’ Arazod swung his axe and sliced a Flowfornian man’s arm off.
Karl retched.
Flowfornians screamed and fled while the man stared at the space that was once a limb, now a bloody hole. He fainted and Karl worried he’d do the same.
‘Fools, kill them all!’ Arazod commanded.
Yellow flickered in each of the Fools’ eyes. Fools and horned wolves chased the innocent.
‘Stop!’ Sabrinia said.
A wolf drove its horn through a baker’s back.
A Fool slashed a woman’s stomach.
‘For my king!’ Lombus charged at Lord Ragnus who punched him in the face. The crack sickened Karl and he looked away from the dented mess that was once Lombus’ head.
‘Lombus!’ Sabrinia’s face turned pale.
Lord Ragnus brushed his bloody knuckles on his trousers as though denting heads was as normal as eating.
Karl wanted to help Sabrinia, but knowing he’d end up crushed he took cover behind a tipped-over barrel and watched.
‘Please stop!’ Sabrinia pleaded.
Arazod was too busy inhaling the battle.
‘We’ll give you gold,’ she begged.
A Fool tackled a man to the ground and stomped on the back of his neck.
Arazod applauded, ignoring Sabrinia’s offer.
‘I’ll marry you!’ Sabrinia blurted. Karl wondered if he was hearing correctly.
‘What?’ Arazod replied.
‘What if I marry you?’ she repeated.
Arazod turned to Lord Ragnus. ‘Is this that witchcraft thing I keep hearing about?’
Lord Ragnus stared Sabrinia down.
She took a step closer to Arazod. ‘You go from kingdom to kingdom, burning and killing. Yet, that obviously isn’t satisfying whatever urge it is you have. What if I marry you? What if you stay here, and instead of destroying as a tyrant, you rule, and build, and become an eternally loved king?’ She pointed to the ashes of her father. ‘In life, and death.’
Arazod's eyes narrowed.
Karl studied the situation. There was a clear run to the alleys where he could get back to his room, but something in him had to help Sabrinia like she always helped him. I can run to that table near the well, leap across the well… yeah I’ll make it… land behind Arazod, grab him, and threaten to snap his neck unless they leave.
Maybe the years of struggling to find his purpose were meant to be. This was his moment; the moment he would do something worthy and be remembered and acce
pted by other Flowfornians. Maybe that’s why he was bad at so many things, because he was truly destined for heroism like King Sastin.
A warm energy filled Karl's body. He stepped out of hiding, puffed out his chest, clenched his fists and steadied himself. ‘Right…’
The butt of a spear smacked the back of his head. He stumbled and slumped over the well, facing the murky waste. Blood warmed his neck.
He lifted his throbbing head and looked towards a blurry Sabrinia. On the well tiles, the shadow of the Fool’s long nose and its spear were about to come down on his worthless existence. His life flashed before his eyes, a series of images of people looking disappointed or angry.
Sabrinia opened her palms. ‘Maybe a different approach would make being a tyrant more fun.’
Arazod raised an arm. ‘Fools, stop!’ He pointed to Lord Ragnus’ side.
Yellow flickered in their eyes and they stopped mid-destruction and returned to Lord Ragnus.
Karl’s breathing slowed. The shadow moved away.
‘I am a bit…’ Arazod gasped. ‘Sick of dragging all these items around.’ He gestured to carts full of supplies. ‘And since I became thirty it takes longer to recover my energy from conquering.’
Sabrinia nodded. ‘My one request is that you allow my people to live as they are, free to follow their dreams.’
Arazod laughed through a wheeze. ‘You’re in no position to make requests, but very well, I’ll rule the free people…’ He gasped. ‘Apart from those who fought back… Lock them up!’ Arazod commanded.
Yellow flickered in the Fools’ eyes once more.
Arazod kicked up pebbles and clapped. ‘I’m the King of Flowforn! Now kneel!’
Flowfornians followed Sabrinia’s lead, bowed their heads and dropped to one knee.
A Fool grabbed Karl by the feet and dragged him towards the dungeons. He looked around to see if anyone was joining him, but it seemed he was the only one foolish enough to have fought back.
Karl could now add Hero to his list of failures.
4
‘Let me out!’ Karl groaned. He yanked against the iron chains that bound his limbs to the rank, cell stones. He convinced himself that he could break free, but all he did was hurt his bony wrists.
‘Sorry, Karl. Arazod’s orders.’ Hargon, the plump guard, brushed his long red hair from his face. He dipped his paintbrush in a clay bowl and stroked it against the stone slab on his lap. ‘Now, would you say your hair is more tree bark or filth brown?’
‘I’d rather you didn’t immortalise this moment.’ Karl huffed. ‘It’s been seven sunsets. When am I getting out of here?’ He swallowed, tasting the stale bread that formed his daily meal.
‘I have no idea.’
All Karl knew about the last seven sunsets was what Hargon had told him, which was that there were many parties to celebrate Arazod’s coronation. This meant one night for the actual event, then as was custom in Flowforn they celebrated anything they could think of. There was the sun rising, which was toasted to until it set. Then they celebrated someone finding a hat that had been missing for three sunsets. Big news. To top it off, a bald bird simply being a bald bird inspired everyone to drink more. The bird didn’t even bother to stick around for the party.
‘Look, Hargon, they seem to have forgotten about me. So why not just let me out?’
‘I’d love to, Karl. But if I let you out, I’ll end up taking your place. If you were me, what would you do?’
‘I’d free me, obviously.’
‘Sorry. If one of us has to die…’ Hargon shrugged and continued painting.
Karl hung his head.
‘Ooh, actually, hold that disappointed look. Really complements the ambience of the piece.’
Karl sighed and pulled himself a few steps away from the wall, as far as the chains would allow. ‘Hargon… we’ve known each other a very long time, right?’
Hargon nodded.
‘Remember when we were little and you couldn’t catch up with the thief who stole your music stick?’
‘Yeah. I still hate him for that.’
‘Remember who caught him?’ Karl smiled, hopeful.
Hargon lifted his paintbrush and pointed it at Karl. ‘He tripped over you because you were passed out on the ground from eating too many beans.’ Hargon continued painting.
Karl cursed his luck. He slid down the wall and let his mind drift with the brushstrokes. Maybe rotting in the dungeon wouldn’t be so bad. It would be less painful than torture.
Toot, toot, toot. Tap, tap, boom!
The drum and horn music invaded the dungeon.
‘Ugh, this noise… It’s like a sword in the ear,’ Karl moaned.
Hargon placed his paintbrushes and stone slab on a stool. He stood. ‘All hail King Arazod, the Supreme Man-Hawk, and his future queen, Princess Sabrinia!’ Hargon bowed his head to Sabrinia.
She looked at the floor. Maybe she knew Karl was about to die.
Arazod spun his axe and turned his beak up at the surroundings. With a nod, he ordered Hargon to open the cell door.
‘This is Karl.’ Hargon turned to Karl. ‘You should stand.’
Karl reluctantly stood. He waited for Arazod to speak, but the Man-Hawk stepped in and locked his beady, yellowy-green eyes on Karl and scratched axe lines into the stone floor.
Sabrinia and Hargon shrugged.
Karl remembered King Sastin’s advice to him when he was a child. ‘Never show weakness to strangers. They will think themselves above you.’ Karl took a breath. ‘I’d do a twirl but I’m a bit restricted.’ Karl shook his chains. ‘Maybe if you free—’
Arazod raised a claw to cut Karl off. Karl wanted to kick it, but that would be foolish and he couldn’t lift his foot that high.
‘Karl.’ Arazod studied him, probably for signs of fear. ‘I’m here to give you a choice. You see, I’ve killed seven thousand and eighty-two beings of all sorts in my life…’
And what has that taught you? Karl thought.
‘… And it can get boring, so now I toy with people. So…’ Arazod wheezed. ‘I either kill you, or you choose someone, any Flowfornian to swap places with. All you have to do is watch me kill them and you can have your life back.’
Karl’s face dropped.
‘Look at that reaction!’ Arazod turned to Sabrinia. ‘His face! Great isn’t it? That’s why I always do this in person.’
She nodded as though humouring him and she seemed as lost as Karl was.
Hargon squeezed his eyes shut, likely regretting not freeing Karl, now hoping for mercy.
Karl thought about all those that disliked him. Pretty much everyone he had worked for. There was a long list of people he wouldn’t miss, like Proster and his stupid brutes. Karl smiled, but then realised those people probably had families and loved ones, people who would miss them if they suddenly died. Karl had none of that. His body weakened. What was the point? ‘You can kill me.’
Sabrinia bit her lip.
Arazod’s beak twitched. He looked at Lord Ragnus as though this was an unexpected answer. ‘Very well. I sentence you to…’ He wheezed. ‘To… to… t… to transformation!’ Arazod coughed in Karl’s face and laughed.
Sabrinia’s eyes widened.
Karl wiped his eyes and mouth. ‘Isn’t that a bit extreme?’
Arazod stopped laughing. He fanned out his one working wing. The other wing twitched, struggling to move. ‘Are you calling me… extreme?’
Hargon and Sabrinia glared at Karl.
‘Yes, because you’re being extreme.’
Sabrinia and Hargon shook their heads.
‘What? He is! All I did was try to defend the place I live in.’
Lord Ragnus stepped forward. ‘His talking irritates me. Shall I just end him?’
Karl looked at Lord Ragnus’ rock fists and cold eyes, and decided he preferred transformation.
Arazod pointed at Karl. ‘Tonight, you shall be transformed into…’ Arazod turned to his Conjurer Fool. A miniature s
piked hat looked like it grew out of its head and an orb hung around its neck.
‘A flying elephant,’ it said.
‘A flying… is that all you have?’ Arazod said. ‘Always with the flying elephant. What h… h… happened to your other spells?’
‘It’s my old rotting brain. I’ve forgotten them. Or so I’ve been told.’
Lord Ragnus backhanded Conjurer Fool against the wall.
Arazod turned back to Karl. ‘You shall be turned into a flying elephant, and fed to the Great Dragon!’
The image of dragon teeth shredding Karl’s flesh off his bones filled his mind. His eyes welled up. ‘Are you sure you wouldn’t prefer Lord Ragnus to end me?’
Arazod smiled as if he was absorbing the regret on Karl's face. ‘You will be taken to the top of Mount Hastovia, and it’ll probably be a moment before you’re caught and devoured.’
‘Wait,’ Sabrinia pleaded. ‘Why don’t you think about it for a while?’
‘Think about it?’ Arazod scratched his axe handle against his head.
‘Yes, think about it.’
‘But I’ve just made my decision.’
‘And you might think of a better one if you give it time. What’s the rush?’
Arazod turned to Lord Ragnus. ‘Is this normal?’ He wheezed. ‘Do other kings… think about it?’
‘The weaker ones do,’ Lord Ragnus stated.
‘The kinder ones do too.’ Sabrinia pointed out. ‘And it often helps them to be loved by their people.’ Her hand brushed Arazod’s arm.
His feathers fluttered. ‘Hmm… I’ll try it this once. How long am I supposed to think about it for?’
‘A day is normally good,’ Sabrinia said.
‘So be it. Tomorrow I’ll make a decision.’
Karl’s breathing slowed.
‘Maybe I’ll think of a better way to kill you,’ Arazod told Karl.
Karl appreciated Sabrinia’s attempt to help, but he knew he was dead, only now he had more time to dwell on it.
‘Right. Enough of him.’ Arazod spun on his talons and left the cell, dragging his axe behind him. His band started their tune and followed him out of the dungeon. The music faded along with Karl’s hopes of seeing a twentieth year.
Sabrinia held her sympathetic gaze on Karl, and then she disappeared around the corner. Karl realised he would probably never see her again or find out what she wanted to tell him. For a moment, among hundreds of scenarios he had convinced himself she was going to ask him to marry her, but why would she? He was nothing.