“Yeah. May I call you Corgi?”
Corg squinted one eye while arching the brow on his other. “Ain’t that after bein’ a brand of doggie?”
“Actually,” admitted Aniok, “I believe it may be.”
“Well, I’ve been called worse, so aye.”
“Ani and Corgi, eh?” Lornkoo said with a grunt.
“That’s Aniok to you, Lornkoo.”
“Aye, and I’ll be Mr. Sawsblade, if’n ye don’t mind.”
THE DEGREE
Prince Jack Nubbins had been treated well so far. Nobody had threatened him or called him names or hit him—well, except for that original bonk on the head, anyway. But now he was sitting in Kleeshay’s office, going over a business document that was completely baffling to him.
“I understand that you don’t wish to supply us with dope, my dear prince,” said Kleeshay, “but haven’t you heard that you shouldn’t put all your eggs in one basket?”
“Well, yeah, sure,” admitted Jack, “but the problem is that I don’t sell dope. Not sure how many times I have to explain that to you.”
“Until the cows come home, maybe?”
Jack furrowed his brow. “What cows?”
Kleeshay didn’t answer. He merely continued pacing back and forth in front of Jack. Finally, he stopped in the middle and sat on the desk’s edge.
“Your man Kwap has already said he’s getting out of the business, you know?”
“The soap business?” said Jack, sniffing the air. “From what I can smell, I’d say the product is still greatly needed.”
Kleeshay laughed. “I like the way you stick by your guns, Jack, but there’s really no way out of this.”
The office door opened and another Orc walked in and handed a box to Kleeshay. The mob boss took the package without a word. Not even a simple “thank you.” Jack found this rude. Even though he was a prince, he’d always made sure to treat the help kindly. It was something his parents had instilled in him from a young age. That and the love of hemp. Most royal families ingrained a sense of superiority into their children. His promised princess came to mind.
“Look, Mr. Kleeshay, I don’t know what you’re talking about. Again, I don’t sell dope. I sell rope. Kwap makes soap. We both went to college—”
“Oooh!” Kleeshay said, interrupting Jack as he tore open the box. “What do we have here?” He pulled forth a frame that was brightly polished. “It seems that I’m one of the club now. Yes, I’m most certainly in the Winner’s Circle.”
“Sorry,” said Jack, unable to contain his curiosity, “but what is it?”
Kleeshay spun it around. “My diploma.”
“Oh, that’s... Congratulations.”
“Master of Business Administration,” Kleeshay pointed out.
“Master’s, eh? Nice.”
“Indeed it is.” The mob boss held it up and gazed proudly as he did a little spinning dance. “This should sweeten the pot with those stuffed shirts in the mob.”
Jack knew this had to do with organized crime, of course. Who else had henchmen, after all? But there was something about hearing the term “mob” that rattled him a bit. He’d seen The Orcfather back in college. These people were known to be ruthless if they didn’t get what they wanted.
“Yes,” Kleeshay repeated ominously, “this will show them.”
The prince looked around the room to see if there was some way he could escape. He was no longer cuffed or blindfolded, but he was also in a strange land with no idea which way to run. On top of that, the Orc had twice his strength. He knew this because he was on the wrestling team with Kwap back in college. Jack had hated it when they sparred against each other. It was a pointless exercise.
Even if he were able to slip past Kleeshay and get out into the hallway, there were certainly plenty of henchmen to take him down and drag him back into the room.
He sank a bit in his chair.
“I honestly don’t know what you want from me,” he sulked.
“Your cooperation, of course,” answered Kleeshay, his eyes shining as they gazed at the diploma. “With that, I’ll be firing on all cylinders.”
“I don’t know what a cylinder is, but how do you think I can help you?”
“Become my supplier,” Kleeshay answered. “And go that extra mile and dump Kwap.”
“You want me to be your rope supplier?” Jack asked.
“Dope,” Kleeshay replied tiredly. “You really do keep your cards close to the vest, don’t you?”
“I have no idea, but I do know that I don’t sell dope!”
Kleeshay chuckled and shook his head, placing the diploma on his desk. He clasped his hands together and stared at Jack for a few moments.
“I applaud you for your tenacity, Prince Jack Nubbins, but, as a man named Teddy will tell you, there comes a time when you must save the drama for your mama and take care of your knitting.”
“What?” mumbled Jack, wondering if he’d ever walk the lonely path outside of the Nubbins’s farm again. “Who the hell is Teddy?”
“A fellow who will have broken legs if he doesn’t pay his debt by the end of the month,” Kleeshay said as he headed back behind his desk. He then pressed a button and said, “Gespo, we’re done in here. The prince wishes to return to his quarters now. Make haste, not waste!”
THE MOUNTAINS
While it sounded fun on the face of it, taking part in a piggyback ride on the back of a Giant was gut-wrenching at best. Whizzfiddle had already felt his stomach lurch a few times and he’d fallen in the basket more than once. Finally, he just gave in and stayed seated, holding on to the metal posts with everything he had.
By the time Lub had stopped, everyone in the group looked dreadful, except for Gungren.
“I think I’m going to lose my lunch,” said Whizzfiddle as he crawled out of the basket. The ground was damp, but he didn’t care. It wasn’t wobbling, and that’s all that mattered. “Ugh.”
“I not know you brought lunch,” said Gungren.
“Just a saying, Gungren.”
They were at the base of a mountain that housed trees so tall that Whizzfiddle knew better than to try to spot their tops. Even the bushes were massive, though surprisingly beautiful with their grand assortment of colors. The air was fresh, too, which was one thing that the elderly wizard was glad for.
Jill was leaning back against one of the trees. “I haven’t been this dizzy since that day I rode on the back of a dragon.”
“You’ve ridden a dragon?” asked Whizzfiddle, doing what he could to take his mind off his nausea.
“At the local carnival,” Jill replied, keeping her eyes closed. “I was just a young girl at the time. The dragon was actually very sweet. She couldn’t fly or breathe fire. Actually, her breath was rather minty.”
“I remember that,” said Kelsa. She was sitting crosslegged with her head in her hands. “Stood in line for three hours as you rode that dragon over and over again, making everyone else wait.”
“Royalty has its privileges,” Jill said stoutly.
“Never even got my chance,” Kelsa continued, “but that’s the way things go when you’re not the princess.”
Jill’s eyes slowly opened. “Is there a problem, Guard Kelsa?”
“Oh my,” said Kelsa, snapping her head up. “I’m so sorry, my lady! When I get disoriented, words just come out of my mouth without my thinking!”
“Like me and losing my lunch,” noted Whizzfiddle.
“That’s understandable, I suppose,” Jill said tightly. “We all act strangely when we’re not feeling well.”
Whizzfiddle was thinking about the dragons in the area of the Kesper’s Range. There had been a few over the years who were capable of being tamed, and even those turned on their trainers eventually, but only one dragon that came to mind could be considered “sweet.”
“I’m assuming we’re talking about Isickly Kandoop?” he asked.
“Who?” said Jill.
“The dragon you rode upon when you were
small.”
“Honestly,” she said with a shrug, “I don’t recall.”
“The name does sound familiar,” said Kelsa. “The ‘sickly’ part anyway. I remember seeing it on the sign as I stood there waiting, and waiting, and waiting...”
“It was likely her,” Whizzfiddle said quickly before there could be another confrontation. “She’s a wonderful dragon. Doesn’t store up gold, never eats anyone. She’s a vegetarian, as a matter of fact. Enjoys playing with the children, too, and always has a kind word to say to anyone walking by.”
Lub had moved over by one of the large trees and had been eating what appeared to be an apple. At least that’s what it looked like in his hands. To one of the “widdle people” it would have been the size of a pumpkin.
“Okay,” announced Gungren, “I gonna go and look for clue stuff.”
“Can’t you take another few minutes?” Whizzfiddle complained as the pit of his stomach worked on returning to normality.
“That prince guy got kidnapped, master,” said Gungren. “This ain’t time for lollypopping.”
“Lollygagging,” corrected Whizzfiddle as he pushed himself back to his feet, “and I suppose you’re right.”
“What do we do?” asked Jill, joining them.
“Spread out and look around,” directed Gungren. “I go up to that clearing there and work on casting spells. That probably the way them guys went.”
As everyone began walking in different directions, Whizzfiddle grabbed Jill by the arm.
“Princess,” he whispered, “you should probably have your aide keep an eye on the Giant so he doesn’t run off. Wouldn’t want to be trapped up in the mountains, if you see what I mean.”
She looked down at his hand on her arm. He let go.
“I’ll tell her to do just that,” she stated before snapping her fingers at Kelsa.
JITTERS
Heliok was confused at how he was feeling, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it. There was something itching at the back of his mind. It was… well, he couldn’t say, because he’d never felt it before.
Across from him sat Misty Trealo. She was dressed in her business attire as usual. All around them were large cameras that were being controlled by Elves from the Underworld. Heliok would have preferred his own people handle them, but Corg had explained that normal cameras required mostly normal people. Then, he’d called Heliok a “nutty Fate” and walked away.
“Is it hot in here?” he asked Misty, tugging at his collar.
Misty looked up from her paper. “Feels okay to me.”
“Really? I’m burning up.”
“You’re also shaking,” she noted
“I am?” He held his hands up and saw that they were visibly trembling. “I am! Whoa. I wonder what that’s all about?”
“Are you guys able to get sick?” Misty asked.
“No.”
“Then…” She stopped and set the paper on the table. “You’re not nervous, are you?”
“Nervous?”
Was that the feeling he was experiencing? He’d had that same sensation a few times when he was supposed to meet with Kilodiek, but that was different. Right?
“Why would I be nervous?” he asked.
“Because you’re going to be interviewed on camera.”
“N…nn...no.”
“Oh boy,” she said as the corner of her mouth lifted slightly. “You are nervous.”
“Maybe a little,” Heliok admitted.
“I’d say maybe a lot,” Misty countered. “You’re pouring with sweat.” She must have realized that her picking on him wasn’t helping the situation, and she obviously knew that she needed him in tiptop shape to have a strong interview. “Okay, look, here’s the deal: You have nothing to worry about.”
“Easy for you to say, you’re not the one on camera.”
“Actually, I will be. I’m conducting the interview, remember?”
Heliok cleared his throat. “Right.”
“You need to keep in mind who you are, Heliok,” she preached. “You’re a Fate. You’re more powerful than The Twelve.”
“I created them, in fact.”
“Precisely my point. So why are you concerned about the potentiality of millions of people seeing you on camera?”
His green skin turned somewhat pink. “I think I need to use the restroom.”
“You guys do that?”
“I may be the first,” he yelped as he ran off the stage.
§ § §
Misty had to wonder how someone so powerful could be equally so weak. It just went to show that no matter what a person’s—or god’s—station was in the grand universe, it didn’t make them immune from suffering similar fears to those deemed lesser.
“What’s with him?” asked Corg.
Misty resumed her study. “Nerves.”
“Yer jokin’.”
“Nope. How goes the filming with the questing party?”
“Finally got these boobs doin’ what I want.” Corg grunted as he threw a thumb at Aniok, Lornkoo, and Mooli. “They’re after bein’ worse than the union boys back home.”
“Well, they are gods.”
“Aye,” said the Dwarf as he twisted his braid around. “Ye’d think they'd have better brains.”
“Probably just a different skillset,” she said.
“Creatin’ people and such.”
She set the paper back down, recognizing that she wasn’t going to be given adequate time to prepare.
“More like creating other gods who create people,” she replied.
“Aye, that too.”
She glanced at her Smart TalkyThingy. There was no connection from up here, obviously, but she could still see her calendar. There was still plenty of time before the first episode had to air, but anyone who had ever produced a TV show like this knew well that schedules tended to slip away if you weren’t careful.
“Do you think we’ll meet our deadline?”
Corg puffed out his chest. “Ain’t missed one yet. Not plannin’ to start now.”
“Good,” she said firmly. “We need a win, Corg.”
“Aye.”
CONFESSIONS
Kelsa was glad the princess had told her to stay behind with Lub as the rest of the troop went off into the woods to hunt for clues. She'd wanted to be involved with finding Prince Jack, sure, but she wasn’t a fan of the woods. Besides, she’d found the Giant to be a decent conversationalist, even if he was incredibly loud.
“So is you a princess too?”
“No, I’m a soldier. I’m here to protect the princess.”
“She look bigger dan you,” noted Lub.
“She is,” affirmed Kelsa. “She’s a better fighter than me too.”
“Dat dum, den.”
“Let’s just say that it’s more likely that I’m here to take the first punch.”
“Ah, I got it. You is father.”
“Father?”
“Yeah,” said Lub. “You don’t matter much.”
“Oh, fodder. Got it. Probably the best way to put it.”
Lub plopped down, almost knocking Kelsa off her feet. He fished another apple out of his pocket and offered it to Kelsa. She was a bit hungry, but the fruit was bigger than her head. She declined and he shrugged, taking a big bite. The crunching alone was rattling.
“She going to marry that prince guy?” Lub asked between chews.
Kelsa sighed and leaned back against a tree. “That’s the plan.”
“You not seem happy about dat.”
“It’s not my place to comment.”
“Huh,” said Lub. “You got a picture of dat prince guy?”
Without thinking, she pulled up her heart-shaped locket and cracked it open, glancing inside. On the left was a picture of Jack and on the right was a picture of herself when she was just out of college.
“Here he is,” she said, feeling her face glow at the thought of him.
“Uh oh,” said Lub, lowering the apple.
/>
“What?”
“You like dat guy, dat’s what.”
“Excuse me,” she said, tucking the locket back down her tunic. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Lady,” said Lub with a wink, “just cause I sounds dumb don’t mean I is dumb.”
Kelsa swallowed and looked around. “Again, I have no idea...”
“Oh, come on," said Lub. "It obvious. You love dat prince guy.”
“Shhh!” She pushed off the tree and smacked Lub on the knee. “Do you want to get me in trouble or something? At least whisper.”
“I are whispering,” he said, rubbing his leg hurtfully.
“Doesn’t sound like it.”
“Okay, okay. Sorry. Lemme see dat picture again?”
“Why?”
“So I can see if dat’s da guy I gave da piggyback ride to.”
She pulled the locket back up and showed it to him.
“Nope. Him don’t look firmill... frimil...” Lub stopped and grunted, closing his eyes with a look of frustration. Finally, he said, “I don’t know dat guy.”
Kelsa went to close the locket back up, giving Jack’s picture one last look. She’d gripped the trinket with her thumb, though, covering Jack’s face.
“Oh, wait,” said Lub, pointing. “I do know dat guy!”
“You do?”
“When you put yer thumb like that I recernized him.”
“Huh?”
“He were wearing a hood when I saw him,” explained Lub.
At least this was progress. “And you brought him to these woods?”
“Uh...” Lub took in a quick breath and his eyes were shifting about. He began flicking little sticks away from around his feet. “Not really, no.”
“But you said you brought some little people here, right?”
“Yeah, about dat... uh...”
“If you’ve got news, Lub, you have to tell me.”
“I not supposed to say nuffin’,” he whispered sheepishly. “I could get in trouble.”
“Please, Lub?” she implored.
Lub looked at Kelsa with those enormous, innocent eyes. She stared right back into them, trying desperately to convey how important this was to her.
The Kidnapped Prince (Tales from the Land of Ononokin Book 5) Page 13