“Could we be ready for tomorrow morning?” Madwyn asked the brothers.
“Is this crowning thing very dangerous? Is it something we really have to worry about? I mean, could we just not show up? It seems rude without an invitation or a—”
The brothers smiled at their Queen. “We have been ready for months, Majesty. We shall solidify our plans and, with Tyro here, make our way to success.” Big Brother slapped Tyro on the back.
Tyro looked at the Queen. “Yes. About that. First, I guess the whole Mystic Crowning information will be given to me later. Not important, really. Just like to know if I need to bring a gift. Here is my concern, and I have no wish to disrespect your Oracle, but I really have no idea what’s going on here, and I need to get back to the shop and close up.”
Madwyn smiled beneficently. “Do not let worry furrow your brow, Tyro. The Oracle spoke. You will lead us to where we must go.”
The brothers grabbed Tyro by the shoulders. “To the War Tent, young Tyro.”
Tyro had just enough time to give a hasty nod and curtsy to the Queen before he was hurried out of her presence.
“Listen, fellows,” Tyro said as he was ushered from the big tent. “I really don’t know how I can help.”
The brothers looked at each other, then at Tyro.
Big Brother spoke cryptically: “Then let the Fates have their way with all.”
Tyro raised his finger in question, then lowered it when Big Brother frowned.
In the War Tent, the brothers and the leaders of the rebel squadrons pored over a blueprint of Castle Hardstock. Big Brother went into the plan.
“As you can see, the walls are heavily fortified. Not even cannon fire can pierce them. There is but one way in. We will have a diversion at the east wall here.” Big Brother pointed at the blueprint.
Little Brother continued. “While the King’s Guard is dealing with that, we have one hundred and twenty of our best warriors on wanbucks on the northwest wall. It is the lowest of the walls, and the wanbucks should be able to clear it easily. Our warriors will have to hold that position until the wanbucks can jump back and return with more reinforcements. At the same time, our archers will lead an attack on the south wall”—Little Brother pointed to another spot on the map—“and add additional support for the northwest wall.”
Big Brother looked pained. “We will lose many good men and women, but if we can gain control of the courtyard, we can bring the Queen in, place her on the throne, and stop the Mystic Crowning ceremony.”
Tyro cleared his throat. “I’m not sure, but I may have asked this before. What is the Mystic Crowning ceremony?” Big Brother craned his neck around and nodded to Little Brother. Little Brother turned to Tyro and steepled his fingers.
“As you may know, the royal family has long been intrigued by the magical arts. Fairdwych has taken that passion beyond all reasoning. He found, in his father’s library, a book of demonic spells. In it, he discovered the Mystic Crowning ceremony, which can only be performed every three thousand and forty-three years during the Day of the Sixteen Whirlers. Tomorrow is that day. ”
Big Brother continued. “If the ceremony is carried out, a demon called Tarmanock will be called forth and will pledge undying allegiance to the one who released him. This beast has ungodly power, and with it Fairdwych will never be stopped.”
Tyro felt faint. “How is it that I never knew of this book of demonic spells?”
Big Brother patted his back. “It was long thought to be a hoax till one of our spies saw Fairdwych using a spell from it to…discipline the kitchen help.”
Tyro’s throat dried. “I don’t want to know the details, do I?”
Little Brother shook his head. “No, you most certainly do not.”
Tyro wondered aloud: “Is there any chance Tarmanock will be like the rest of us and take an instant dislike to the King? Maybe he’ll kill him and head back to his own dimension.”
The brothers looked at him sadly and shook their heads. Tyro sighed and rubbed his temples. He looked at the blueprints of the castle. Something caught his eye.
“Wait a minute. This blueprint doesn’t show the tunnel.” All eyes turned to him.
“Tunnel?” said Big Brother.
“There’s a tunnel that starts by the River of Lost Tears and leads straight into the castle. My grandfather was one of the engineers. He showed it to me when I was a child. Used to play in it for hours. Can’t remember why we stopped.”
“There’s a tunnel?” Little Brother exclaimed. “Our army can enter the castle undetected via this old tunnel?”
The group laughed delightedly. There was much handshaking and backslapping. Big Brother wiped happy tears from his eyes.
“So was that it?” Tyro asked hopefully. “Am I done?” Everyone laughed harder.
The next morning, as the brothers prepared to lead their assembled men to the head of the tunnel, Madwyn approached Tyro.
“Tyro, I thank you for your service. We are fortunate indeed to have your help. The Fates have been kind to deliver you to us.”
“But I haven’t done anything, Majesty, except remember a treasured childhood haunt.”
“Ah, but this tunnel allows us access to the castle in such a way that will save many lives.” Madwyn paused, looking into Tyro’s eyes. “Is everything all right?”
Everything was fine. Tyro could not help staring at Madwyn. He had never seen anyone so beautiful before. “Yes, Majesty. Everything is fine, thank you. I was just thinking of…a favorite recipe…that I like…um…I hope you get the throne. I always liked you best.”
“Thank you.” Madwyn smiled sadly. “I hope that I can get it back, too. My brother has almost broken the spirit of our country with his greed and lust for power.”
“Yes, well, family can be complex.”
“There’s nothing complex about Fairdwych. He will try to separate my head from my body if he sees me and figures out what we’re up to.”
“I will not let that happen, Your Queenship…my Queen…Your Majesty.” Tyro blushed.
“Call me Madwyn. ’Tis my name.” She laughed softly and kissed Tyro on the cheek. “Good luck to you today. May we all survive.”
Tyro was so besotted by the kiss, it took him a few seconds to understand the import of her words. “Good luck to me? Why? I thought I was done. What am I doing that I might not survive?”
What Tyro was doing was leading an army of rebels to the River of Lost Tears. As they rode up to the mouth of the tunnel, Tyro turned to the brothers. “There you go. That’s the tunnel. Leads right into the main ballroom, right next to the Throne Room.”
“Excellently done, my friend!” said Big Brother. “Now you must lead us to the end.”
“What? I’ve led you to where you want to go! What else do you need me for? I’m not a warrior.”
“You are still an important part of this.” Madwyn rode up next to him with an old woman by her side.
“This is the Oracle.” Madwyn gestured to the old woman. “She foretold of you. She says there is more that you must do.”
Tyro looked narrowly at the Oracle, despising her more than anyone he had ever despised.
“Okay, Oracle. What am I to do next?”
“I do not know,” the Oracle intoned sagely.
“You have no idea?”
“I would not want to say,” she pronounced regally.
“So, I’m to lead an army of rebels to take the throne from the King and defeat his army because—you just had a feeling?”
“I am the Oracle! My prognostications have changed all that we know!” The old woman sounded testy.
“Will I live through this?” Tyro asked hopefully.
“I don’t know.”
“Will we succeed today?”
“The immediate future is cloudy.”
“What’s my favorite color?”
“Blue.”
“Lucky guess.”
; “The Oracle has correctly foretold Tyro’s favorite color!” Big Brother shouted triumphantly. The rebels cheered.
“That doesn’t mean anything!” cried Tyro. He turned back to the Oracle. “How accurate are your feelings? What percentage would you say?”
“That is not important now, young Tyro. You have brought us here. As I have foretold. You have completed the first of your tasks.”
“My tasks? Tasks, as in more than one? What are they?”
“What is known to you is known to me, but what is known to me has yet to be known to you,” she croaked.
“So, what you are saying is, you don’t know anything.”
Madwyn raised her delicate eyebrows. “Is there something wrong, Tyro? Are you having second thoughts about securing the throne for me?”
“No,” said Tyro quickly. “Just going over my tasks.” He turned to the rebel army and in his best military style shouted, “Let’s move out!”
Tyro led the rebel group into the mouth of the tunnel. It had a dank odor (as one would expect from a tunnel), but the phosphorus that lined its walls provided enough light to see by. Tyro was thinking back to the last time he had been here. He’d played in that nook there, had hidden by this cranny here, had stowed his little treasure of bobbins and sticks in that hole way up there. As he looked around he was overcome by a wave of nostalgia. Why do we have to grow up? he wondered. As he followed a smooth, familiar curve in the tunnel, he saw a huge shadow about five hundred feet ahead.
Tyro raised his hand to stop the crowd behind him. He whispered loudly in a rising panic: “I remember why this tunnel isn’t used anymore.”
“What is it, friend?” asked Big Brother.
“A Twavverhackle!”
The entire group took a giant involuntary step back. The Twavverhackle was the most fearsome creature in Geologa. The very name would put misbehaving children on the straight and narrow, and frustrated parents invoked its fearsomeness only rarely. It scared them too.
Hundreds of Twavverhackles had roamed the countryside in days gone by, but they had all mysteriously disappeared about twenty years ago. Since they were impossible to kill, it was thought that they had become extinct due to some strange evolutionary weakness. Unfortunately, no one had told the Twavverhackle who was now blocking their path. This one looked extremely lively and appeared to be a prime example of the species. It towered sixty feet high and looked like the offspring of an alligator and a great ape. The only thing worse than its huge jaws was its proclivity for hurling its own feces.
“This is going to be a bit of a problem,” said Big Brother, unsheathing his broadsword.
“You mean the sixty-foot creature that wants to kill us?” said Tyro. “Yes, I fully agree with you.”
Little Brother cut him off. “No time for sarcasm, little one.”
“Oh no, what do you want?” Tyro asked as the Oracle approached.
“You will get us past the creature.”
Tyro laughed. “Have I done something to you, personally? Why are you so hell-bent on getting me killed?”
“You are wrong, Tyro Tinnywinkle. You will live. You are the key to all success. From the lowly will come all happiness.”
“Lowly?”
“Even the smallest rat has its purpose.”
“That’s sweet.”
“Without manure, there can be no—”
“GOT IT!” Tyro yelled. “I think we all have the gist here. I’m lowly and will make all good. Yes, I think that is clear. Here is something else that is clear. There is no way in MARKO’S GREAT CAVERN that I am going back there to face that thing.”
“Of course, Tyro, you are under no obligation. You have done what we have asked of you.” Tyro turned to see that Madwyn had joined the group. “If I am to lead, it is up to me to get us past this.”
Big Brother spoke up. “My Queen, perhaps the original plan of using the wanbucks to—”
“No, Big Brother,” Madwyn said firmly. “Going through the tunnel is our best chance for success.” She turned to a servant. “Get me my broadsword.”
“Wait!” said Tyro. “I’ll go.” This surprised everyone, especially Tyro. “Look, if the old crone is right, then I will somehow get us past this without getting killed.” He looked at the Oracle. “Are you absolutely certain about this?”
“Seventy percent certain. Maybe seventy-three.”
Tyro’s jaw dropped. “Seventy-three percent?”
“That is still quite favorable odds.”
“A hundred percent is quite favorable. Seventy percent leaves a lot of room for disaster.”
Big Brother and Little Brother clasped him by the shoulders.
“We shall come with you, friend,” said Big Brother, puffing out his chest.
“May the Fates be kind,” said Little Brother.
Tears sprang into Tyro’s eyes. “That is very nice of you. No one has ever looked out for me like this. No.” He snuffled. “I will go by myself and take care of the Twavverhackle.”
The Oracle smiled. “I knew you would.”
Tyro had never wanted to punch someone more. He buttoned up his coat.
“Are you sure this is all you will need?” asked Big Brother.
“I’m not actually sure of anything,” said Tyro, rolling up his sleeves. “Except that our weapons are useless against the Twavverhackle. Perhaps I can scare it off with a flash strip or a very impressive card trick.”
“Good luck to you,” said Little Brother. “May the Harbinger of Death pass you by today!”
“Thanks.” Tyro slowly made his way forward to where the Twavverhackle lay in wait. He had no plan, no weapons, no chance of surviving. Exactly why I hate adventures, he thought bitterly.
He moved farther into the tunnel, staying close to the wall, hoping to blend in with the shadows. He took a glance around the curved wall. There was no sign of the Twavverhackle. Odd, he thought, it’s very difficult for a sixty-foot creature to be inconspicuous. Tyro moved even deeper into the tunnel. As he reached a precariously rocky part, the Twavverhackle leapt out, roaring ferociously. It was the most terrifying sound Tyro had ever heard. What happened next happened so quickly that Tyro barely had time to register the events. But register them he did.
Tyro raised his hands to protect himself.
As he raised his hands, he released the two dovelings that were secreted in his coat, two dovelings he had counted during inventory check at the shop the night before.
The dovelings, excited at being freed from the confines of the coat, sang lustily and flew right at the Twavverhackle’s beady eyes.
The only thing a Twavverhackle fears, for reasons known only to it, is a doveling. The only thing a Twavverhackle fears more than one doveling is two. Two dovelings were too much to bear for the Twavverhackle, who immediately had a heart attack and died.
Tyro stood over the dead Twavverhackle. “That was easy.” He turned and yelled down the tunnel. “You can all come back now! The creature is dead! I killed it.”
A loud cheer echoed through the tunnel.
Fifteen minutes later, the rebel army was almost at its destination. The constant questioning of the Brothers about the demise of the Twavverhackle made it seem to Tyro as if three times that amount of time had passed.
“Did you jump on its back and twist its neck until it broke?” asked Little Brother as he ran up with Big Brother. “No. Of course, that was my first thought, but, uh, it’s not important how I did it. Ah, here we are.” They had reached the end.
The brothers, Tyro, Madwyn, and the Oracle stood at the secret door that led into the ballroom. Tyro stuck a cautious head in. The magnificently opulent ballroom glistened with golden chandeliers, long tables covered with elaborately decorated silver tablecloths, and several life-size statues of Fairdwych.
“There’s no one about,” Madwyn whispered to the squadron leaders. “Bring your people in quietly. Brothers, Tyro, you will come with me. You too, Mav
ellus.” She gestured to the leader of the archers. “Those stairs lead to the level above the Throne Room where the advisers to the monarch and the people’s representatives sit. That is, until my brother disbanded them. Three hundred of your archers can easily stand there. We shall surround the King and his guards. Hopefully, they will see the folly in resistance and we can end this without any blood being spilled. May the Gods be with you all.”
Madwyn led the way up the stairs.
Tyro marveled at how three hundred archers could move so quietly up uncarpeted stairs. Five minutes later everyone was in place above the throne of Fairdwych the Despised. Madwyn and Tyro peeked over the banister and glanced at the scene below. One hundred Royal Guards were preparing for what Tyro assumed was the Mystic Crowning. Large orbs were set in the shape of a pentagram, and herbs smoked in pots around the perimeter. A very nervous goat bleated from her place in the center. Fairdwych appeared to be in an impatient mood.
Pointing at the workers with his scepter, he screamed, “Move faster, you square-headed buffoons! The time of the Mystic Crowning is almost upon us! We must be ready. Then the world will be mine! Mine alone! ”
I really hate that guy, thought Tyro.
Madwyn turned to make sure the archers were in place. They were. She stood up, looking every inch the Queen she was. “Fairdwych! This stops now!”
Startled, Fairdwych looked up. When he saw her, he smiled. “Sister! How lovely to see you. I thought we would never cross paths again. How can I help you?”
“It is I who will help you, Brother. I will help you step down as ruler and live a life away from here, where you can cause no harm.”
Fairdwych smiled again.
A chill ran up Tyro’s spine. Something was not right here.
“Sister, tell your archers to put down their weapons.” Tyro saw Madwyn begin to falter.
“Archers…put…down…” She seemed to be having trouble speaking.
“Madwyn! What are you doing?” Tyro saw that the archers seemed to be in the same state as their Queen. They started to lower their bows. What was going on?
“Sister! You can’t resist me. You should know that. Put down your weapons and I’ll make sure your death is a quick one.”
Not QUITE the Classics Page 6