by Mark Boutros
‘Grundimonus.’ A hairy, whiskered mole-fish leapt out of her sleeve and into the soil. The ground vibrated and the mole-fish leapt up in front of the Fools. One tried to catch it but it slithered out of its hands and back under ground, then leapt out behind it. Four more Fools joined in trying to grab it.
It wasn’t enough. She needed to draw more Fools out. Bar Witch wiped the blood from her nose and rubbed the stinging out of her fingers. She clenched her fists and her heart raced. ‘Come on, then.’ This had to count. She took a breath, closed her eyes, and then they shot open and rolled into the back of her head. The blue pulse stung and stabbed at her insides. Her body tensed and she had to fight the urge to scream. She gritted her teeth and the cracks in her arms widened and blood poured out.
‘Spikuswingnum.’ Her stomach bubbled and the bubbles moved up her chest and into her throat. She opened her mouth and hundreds of snake-bees flew out. Their long, striped bodies slithered in the air and their tiny wings flapped. Their stingers moved side to side on the end of their tails.
The Fools waved their weapons and arms, fighting off the bites and stings. More Fools joined them.
Bar Witch smiled and fell to her knees. The pain consumed her and her body throbbed like it could explode and leak life. ‘Over to you lot… Don’t mess it up.’ She collapsed face first into the mud.
44
Scrath stared at the corpse of his dead friend. He wanted to give up, but then Brog’s death would be for nothing.
His people hid by columns, all terrified. What could he do? The number of Fools had grown and some were on horned wolves. There was no easy path to the column.
Wob joined him. ‘I can—’
‘What are you doing, Wob? It’s too dangerous for you here. Please.’ He took her hands. ‘Please just stay behind this fountain.’
She pulled her hands away.
Scrath counted the Fools again to be sure there weren’t as many as he thought. There were still ten, and still three on horned wolves. The other Tree-Cyclopsi did their best to camouflage against the columns. ‘Oh boy, Scrath. Looks like it’s happening. First I’ll take care of that column, then that leaves me roughly no time to get to the statue. Come on Scrath, be brave.’ He took a deep breath. ‘Wob, if anything happens…’
Wob was gone.
Scrath felt numb.
She leapt over a hedge and ran along the tiled rim of a water feature. Scrath was aware she was agile, but this was incredible.
Wob scooped up Brog’s jars in her stride. Scrath’s heart raced. She headed straight for a collision with a Fool on a horned wolf, but spun behind the southeast column, dodging its gaze. She looked over at her father. He mouthed an apology and she smiled.
All that remained was for Scrath to get to the statue of Arazod wrestling a dragon, but the Fools had all angles covered.
‘If I go from… No. Maybe I should… No.’ There was no way.
Scrath moved then hesitated.
Wob looked at him, poured the contents of the jars on the column, and then stepped into the open.
Scrath’s eye widened. His heart twisted and all the hairs covering his body stood on end.
‘Fools!’ She spread her arms, welcoming a fight.
Scrath stepped forward but she shook her head.
The Fools turned their attention to her.
‘Come and get me if your stupid little grey legs are fast enough.’
‘Must kill intruders.’ One of them walked over to stab her, but she dodged the knife, then another thrust a spear, which she sidestepped. A horned wolf tried to bite her. She kicked off a fountain and spun away.
Scrath’s body shook.
Seven Fools chased her. She led them away from the central statue and Scrath took his chance. He made it and nodded to his fellow Tree-Cyclopsi. They all mixed the pastes onto the stone and ran.
When Scrath lifted his head, Fools chased Wob out of the gardens. He had to help her.
45
Karl, Sags, Frong, Marlens, Oaf and Questions waited, chest deep in the filthy, murky, waste well.
Karl fought the urge to vomit but the smell was so foul he could taste it.
They’d listened to what felt like an eternity of Arazod’s songs. Among the ear burners he screeched through were, ‘Share this egg.’ ‘Is it because I have feathers?’ ‘A tree does not maketh a nest.’ ‘Let me beak your lover,’ and his final eardrum abuser, ‘These wings are for huggin’.’
Sags pulled at his ears, desperate for the singing to end.
Fools rested their hands on the well. It seemed several Fools stood around it in a circle, looking out onto all areas of the courtyard.
Karl let water run through his hands and held them in front of him, a mess of black and green, lumpy waste. ‘I can’t believe this is what we let flow into the stream all the way to Lake Shizneh.’
‘What’s that?’ Questions looked at the waste water.
Karl’s heart raced.
‘It’s just a dirt-fish,’ Frong told Questions. ‘They are born out of waste. Brains, hearts, everything. The largest one ever recorded was found in Gumton, a disgusting kingdom that used to stand tall on the island of Mornok across the Wilda Sea, far north…'
‘Just stop it,’ Karl said.
Marlens secured some grips to ropes. She put her arms around Frong and Sags. ‘It’s excitin’ bein’ on an adventure again.’
Marlens felt around Frong’s back and found an ale pouch in his armour. She tutted and threw it away.
Karl listened to the Fools at the top of the well. ‘Hold on…’
‘A bald goat, a mole-fish, and snake-bees,’ one said.
‘We’d better help. Must guard the castle,’ another suggested.
‘We’ll keep guarding the castle here,’ another stated.
Two sets of hands left the rim of the well and the sound of shuffling pebbles under their feet grew distant. Karl listened out for the next part of the plan. If the Tree-Cyclopsi had succeeded then any moment now they should hear...
Rumbling.
Karl smiled.
‘What was that?’ a Fool cried.
‘Intruders. The gardens, now!’ another ordered. All the hands from around the well disappeared.
Karl turned to his friends. ‘Ready?’
They nodded.
Marlens threw her rope up and secured the grip. They all did the same. One by one they climbed until it was Oaf and Karl.
‘I made you something,’ Oaf said.
He took out a beautifully sculpted, black and purple stone shield from his sack. It had spiked sides, and a hooked bottom. He handed it to Karl. It felt magical in his hands.
‘But you swore never to sculpt again.’
‘I made this out of a sculpture of Lord Ragnus’ face.’ Oaf smiled. ‘If my sculptures can help save everyone, I’ll sculpt until my hands fall off.’
Karl put his filthy hand on Oaf’s shoulder. ‘Thank you.’
‘Arazod’s Soul Bleeder may be the sharpest axe in the land, but the sky rocks of Reech are the toughest material I know,’ Oaf said.
Karl hugged him. ‘If this ends badly… It’s been a pleasure.’ He admired the shield.
Oaf patted him on the back. ‘It’s called The Star of Reech.’
‘It’s perfect.’ Karl turned and grabbed the rope but Oaf stopped him.
‘One last time?’ Oaf said.
Karl nodded. Why not? Oaf threw Karl out of the well. His face skidded and burned along the courtyard pebbles and he regretted letting sentiment get the better of him.
There was chaos towards the gardens and Fools chased creatures at the arch.
Flowfornians in chains, watched. Proster tried to chase a Fool, but the men he was chained to refused to indulge his thirst for fighting.
Peezant pecked at the chains that bound him to an outdoor cage.
A Fool looked at Karl. It was about to call out but Frong drove his shoulder into its face. Karl’s jaw dropped, marvelling at the power. Frong smil
ed and rolled his shoulders.
A Behemoth Fool blocked the entrance to the King’s Tower, alongside a Fool armed with a spear, riding a horned wolf. They looked towards the commotion in the gardens.
‘We’ve officially adventured into Flowforn,’ Marlens said.
‘Another fine plan executed to perfection,’ Frong added.
Sags grunted. They stood proud, taking it all in.
‘We’re not done yet though.’ Marlens indicated to the Behemoth Fool and Fool. ‘Looks like we’ve got to overcome a beast.’ She took the rope and grip and threw the other end to Frong. ‘You ready?’
‘I’ve missed this.’ Frong straightened his beard.
‘Sags, you’re up,’ Marlens said.
Oaf climbed out of the well using the remaining ropes, then Frong and Marlens took them.
Sags ran up to the Behemoth Fool and its companion.
‘Intruder,’ Behemoth Fool said, so Sags punched it in the face.
Karl's eyes widened, worried his friend would be crushed.
Behemoth Fool blinked and clenched its fists. It roared, throwing its arms to its side in a display of dominance, accidentally smashing the Fool off its horned wolf. The Behemoth Fool chased Sags towards the well.
Sags turned to face it. He dodged punches, moving as though he knew what was coming before it was on its way.
‘How?’ Karl couldn’t understand his agility.
Frong and Marlens threw their ends of the ropes to each other and back, circling the Behemoth Fool in a well-practised routine.
Sags weaved and ducked more attacks, while Frong and Marlens threw the ropes above and below the Behemoth Fool’s arms until its body was tangled.
Sags grunted to Frong and Marlens and walked up to the Behemoth Fool. He thumped it in the stomach.
‘Must kill intruders.’ The Behemoth Fool grabbed Sags and squeezed him against its muscular chest.
Karl grimaced.
Frong and Marlens ran around the Behemoth Fool and pulled the ropes until the beast was covered from head to toe, with Sags bound to its body.
‘Can he breathe?’ Karl asked.
‘You alright, Sags?’ Frong checked.
He grunted.
‘Why have you tied him up?’ Questions asked.
Something moved under the ropes, accompanied by the uncomfortable clicking of bones. Sags’ foot, followed by his leg, his other leg, his body, arms and head slithered out of a tiny gap in the ropes.
The Behemoth Fool tried to break free but fell and struggled against the restraints.
‘Strong work, Sags.’ Marlens patted him on the back. He clicked every bone back into place. The others winced.
‘Just that other Fool to go,’ Karl commented.
The Fool recovered and mounted its horned wolf and pointed its spear at them. ‘Charge!’
Oaf roared at the horned wolf.
Terrified, it ran away, taking the Fool with it.
A disruption came from Flowforn Arch. ‘Help!’ Bar Witch yelled.
Marlens turned towards the noise. ‘Seeing as we never nab anything from our adventures, how about we claim Bar Witch as our magic relic?’
‘I don’t think she’ll appreciate being called a relic, but she’d appreciate the gesture,’ Frong said.
Sags grunted.
‘Thanks… All of you,’ Karl said.
Marlens hugged him. ‘We’ll come and help as soon as we’ve got her. Good luck.’
Frong stepped in. ‘It’s better to just say go for it. Luck is something that isn’t driven by mentality, whereas if you say go for it, it motivates the person to push through fear and doubt. There have been studies since the beginning of history—’
‘Just go.’ Karl smiled.
The adventurers ran towards the commotion, passing the chained group of Flowfornian men.
At Flowforn Arch, a Fool speared the bald goat, while the Behemoth Fool caught the mole-fish and ripped it in half. The other Fools waved flaming torches at the snake-bees.
Scrath dragged Wob into an outdoor cage and closed it, shielding him and his daughter. Fools poked their spears through the bars, but they evaded them. They wouldn’t last long.
All of this was to help Karl and Flowforn. A group of Fools spotted him, Questions and Oaf.
‘Get them!’ They charged.
Proster, chained and looking exhausted, dragged a reluctant line of fellow prisoners and stood between the Fools and the trio. ‘Go on then, idiot,’ Proster told Karl.
Karl ran into the tower and looked back for Questions and Oaf, but oncoming Fools fought them along a different corridor. He had to do this alone.
46
Sabrinia, wrists and ankles tied with rope, stood next to Arazod at the front of the Great Hall. She refused to wear her red wedding dress so Arazod had it tied around her, like a long scarf over her undergarments.
Lord Ragnus stood by Arazod’s side.
Gold carvings of old royal figures under messages of positivity lined the walls. Sabrinia felt the messages mocked her – ‘Pursue your passion.’ ‘Love who you are.’ ‘Don’t let others stop you being you.’ ‘Dreams can become reality.’
Wooden benches faced the large, golden Soul Candle, which never burned out. Sabrinia gazed at the tiny, uneven wooden entrance, which made the Great Hall more aesthetically disappointing than great. She hoped someone would rescue her.
An old Warlock with shaggy grey hair addressed them, his back to the candle. He wore a flowing silver gown, his hands adorned with all sorts of diamonds and precious stones, clanking with every move of his fingers. A tiny, white, pointy hat leaned off his head to complete his outfit. An orb the size of his head was on a plinth. He placed his hand on the orb and it filled with names.
‘What do you mean you won’t marry us?’ Arazod complained.
‘She has to say yes without being restrained,’ the Warlock nasally replied.
Arazod nodded to Lord Ragnus. He untied Sabrinia’s wrists and ankles, gripped her head tighter than he needed to and made her nod.
‘No. She has to say yes herself.’
‘Not going to happen,’ she said through the forced nods.
The Fool alarm sounded and Lord Ragnus released Sabrinia’s head.
Sabrinia smiled, hoping another kingdom Arazod had ruined was here for revenge.
Lord Ragnus scoffed. ‘It would help if you gave me full control of the Fools. I can assign them specific duties to counter whatever is going on.’
‘I told you. When I get what I want you’ll have your army. And I want Sabrinia to be married to me.’
Lord Ragnus smiled. Sabrinia could tell he was frustrated.
‘Understood,’ he said.
‘You know he’ll never give you command of them, don’t you?’ Sabrinia said.
‘Quiet, you,’ Arazod said.
‘They’re the only strength he has. Why would he give them up?’
‘Ignore her. You will have them soon,’ Arazod said.
Lord Ragnus cleared his throat. ‘I’ll go and investigate what’s going on.’ He left.
Arazod turned back to the Warlock. ‘Look, I am the king, and I command that she is my wife. Why doesn’t that mean anything? What’s the point of being a king if people don’t do what I say?’
Sabrinia, bored, shook her head.
The Warlock sighed. ‘I don’t think you understand. If Sabrinia doesn’t want to marry you, I can’t cast the spell of binding souls and cast your names into the History Orb.’
‘I really don’t want to marry him,’ she said.
‘Silence.’ Arazod turned back to the Warlock. ‘Surely it’s about what I want?’
‘Not when it comes to marriage. That’s a two-way process in Flowforn.’
‘Hmm… Will you marry us if I threaten to kill her?’ He raised his axe.
‘If you kill me I won’t have to marry you, so I choose that option.’ Sabrinia craned her neck, inviting Arazod to slice it. ‘Go on, right there.’
Arazod huffed and scratched his head. ‘What if I threaten to kill you?’ he asked the Warlock.
‘If you kill me, you’ll have to search Flowfornia for another Warlock to perform the ceremony. I get the impression you’ve killed most of them already, so you need me more than I need you right now.’
‘Gah!’
Sabrinia and the Warlock exchanged a smile, relieved this wouldn’t drag on.
‘Fools!’ Arazod screamed.
Two Fools brought in a struggling Hargon, his face covered in bruises.
‘Say yes, or he dies.’ Arazod smirked.
Sabrinia’s heart clenched.
‘So, ask her the question again, and as we practised,’ Arazod ordered the Warlock.
The Warlock huffed. ‘Do you wish to marry Arazod, Supreme Man-Hawk, heroic leader and conqueror of all?’
Arazod smirked at her.
‘Can you repeat the question, please?’ Sabrinia asked.
‘Don’t do it, Sabrinia!’ Hargon shouted. ‘My life isn’t worth it.’
Sabrinia hung her head. Was this really it? Bound to the most evil creature she had ever come across. She smiled at Hargon, admiring his bravery. Even in the misery that hung over Flowforn recently, she had seen hope in him, and great determination in others. Through pain she felt pride. She turned and nodded at the Warlock.
He took a breath. ‘Princess Sabrinia, do you wish to marry Arazod, Supreme Man-Hawk, heroic leader and conqueror of all?’
She looked at the walls, the history on them. It would all be reduced to nothing.
She swallowed and faced the Warlock. ‘I do…’ Sickness filled her body and threatened to leave her throat.
Hargon’s head lowered. ‘I’m sorry, Princess.’
Arazod clapped. ‘We’re married!’
The Warlock stepped to the side of the Soul Candle. ‘Now step into its shadow.’
Arazod leapt into the shadow of the candle, while Sabrinia dragged her feet.
The Warlock held a hand over the flame until a black circle formed on his palm. ‘Now hold your hands out and place them on top of each other.’
Arazod grabbed Sabrinia’s hand and held it out under his claw.