The Kidnapped Prince (Tales from the Land of Ononokin Book 5)

by John P. Logsdon

  “You really love dat guy, right?” Lub said with a voice that sounded miserable.

  Kelsa checked the area and then nodded. “More than anything.”

  “Okay, fine.” Lub pushed himself up, holding on to a nearby tree for leverage. “I know where dat guy really is. He not in da woods. He in Pren wif a Dark Halfling and a Dark Dwarf.”

  “Oh no,” said Kelsa with a start. “We need to tell the others.” She began to run towards the trees, but stopped and looked back at the Giant, who didn’t look all that jolly at the moment. “You’re not going to tell anyone about my feelings for the prince, I hope?”

  “I not say nuffin’,” Lub said with a shrug. “I fink I’m in enough trouble on my own.”

  “Don’t worry,” she said, giving him a warm smile. “I’ll stand by you if it comes to that.”

  “Really?”

  “You have my word,” she affirmed.

  “Wow. Fanks, lady.”

  “Kelsa,” she said before turning back to the trees. “You may call me Kelsa.”

  “Kelfa,” Lub attempted.

  “Close enough.”

  § § §

  Jill, Kelsa, and Eloquen were standing around Lub when Whizzfiddle stepped out of the tree line. The Giant looked rather guilty about something. But what? It wasn’t as if they’d been apart from him for very long and Kelsa had kept watch while they were all out in the woods.

  “What happening?” asked Gungren, the last to return to the clearing.

  “Not sure yet, Gungren,” answered Whizzfiddle. “Just got here myself.”

  “I never meant to hurt nobody,” said Lub.

  “Hurt somebody?” said Whizzfiddle as he glanced from face to face. “What’s going on here?”

  “I lied is what,” answered Lub, keeping his eyes on his feet.

  Gungren walked under him and looked up. “You know where that prince guy am?”

  “Him in Pren,” admitted Lub.

  “So why you not say that before?”

  “Cause doze other widdle people paid me to make a division.”

  “Division?” said Jill.

  “I think he means he was paid to create a diversion,” said Whizzfiddle.

  “Yup.”

  “So your job was to lead us on a wild goose chase?”

  “There not no gooses in des parts, mister,” answered Lub.

  Jill began walking back and forth, muttering under her breath. She was obviously irritated, but then she always seemed to be. But this was even worse than normal. Whizzfiddle hadn’t known the girl very long, so he couldn’t say with certainty that she was always this way, but every royal person he’d met had the propensity for lashing out. Non-royalty did too, of course, but royalty was well-versed in it. They were gifted with the spoon of entitlement, to boot.

  “That’s just terrible,” she said venomously. “You should be ashamed of yourself. There’s a man’s life at stake here.”

  “I are sorry, Princess,” Lub replied, keeping his head down. “I not fink it was dat way.”

  “I can’t believe that anyone would have such a low moral compass. It’s disgusting. If you were in my land, I’d—”

  “He said he was sorry,” Kelsa interrupted.

  Everyone gawked.

  “Did you just interrupt me?” Jill said with more heat than she’d been using at Lub.

  “Yes,” Kelsa said, standing her ground.

  “Now you listen to me, Guard Kelsa…”

  “No, Princess,” Kelsa said, standing toe-to-toe with the larger woman, “you’ve said enough. Lub obviously feels terrible about this and he just admitted to this wrongdoing without any of us having figured it out first. To me, that doesn’t paint him as someone with a low moral compass, but rather someone who has merely found the folly in his ways and is now trying to make recompense for it.” She then walked over to Lub and took his gigantic hand into hers. “And I don’t care if this costs me some form of punishment. He didn’t have to say anything to us, but it’s honorable that he did.”

  “Hmmmph,” said Jill, turning away.

  It was rare to see a subordinate stand up to a boss like that. Whizzfiddle, for one, rather enjoyed it, but he kept his mirth to himself.

  “Lub,” said Gungren, “if you really want to fix things, you got to take us to them as quickly as possible.”

  “I can do dat,” Lub replied, nodding firmly. “It not dat far and I can run really fast.”

  “Let’s go, then,” commanded Gungren. “Time are wasting!”

  IN PLACE

  Kwap stood with Blaze and Pilk on the boundary of the main warehouse.

  It was the primary storage building that sat just inside the border between Pren and Wikr. There were many rooms in the place, each separated out for bosses to use for various purposes, including storage of documents, products, and sometimes kidnapped persons, among other things. It was large enough to support the entire crime syndicate in the area, giving each boss their own access entrance that was locked and guarded day and night. To add to the security, the perimeter was surrounded by a twenty-foot-high fence that was wrapped in barbed wire.

  “You’re sure Kleeshay’s keeping them here?” Kwap asked Blaze.

  “It’s what everyone is saying, boss.”

  “Which means it’s likely a trap.”

  Part of Kleeshay being, well, Kleeshay was that he had a tendency of doing the expected. A case in point being that he would set up the most obvious trap to spring on someone. Of course, it would also be an obvious move to actually hold the prince up in a warehouse since that’s what gangsters did in the movies.

  “Well,” said Kwap, “if he’s in there, we gotta get him out.”

  “If it a trap,” asked Pilk, “why we not leave?”

  “Because you don’t abandon friends when they need you, Pilk.”

  “Oh, I guess dat true, but I not want to hurt nobody, boss.”

  “Yeah, I know.” Kwap studied the area, hoping to spot some movement along the windows. “Don’t worry, Pilk. You’re just going to yell a lot and look menacing. We’ll take care of the rough stuff.”

  “I like doing that part. It fun.”

  “Are all the boys and girls outfitted, Blaze?” asked Kwap, keeping his eyes on the compound.

  “Timmyguns are at the ready, boss,” answered the Dark Elf. “How many of Kleeshay’s goons do you think are in there?”

  “For all I know, none.” He was trying to think like Kleeshay, which should have been easy, but Kwap had to admit that he carried doubt. “But I think Kleeshay wants this to go down in what I would imagine he would call ‘a blaze of glory.’”

  “Me in glory?” said Blaze with an arched eyebrow.

  “No, ‘blaze’ as in a huge flame. It’s just a saying. He wants there to be a firefight. He wants bullets to fly.” Kwap checked his own Timmygun. “It’s his way. If it were me, I’d just sit down with the guy and work our differences out. Just not his style, though, and that means there’s going to be a fight.”

  “I not like to…”

  “We know, Pilk,” Kwap interrupted. “Again, the rest of us are going to fight. You’re just going to scare people.”

  Pilk brightened for a moment. “You wamme scare people now, den?”

  “Yeah,” answered Kwap, thinking more in general terms.

  Pilk, though, clearly took Kwap literally because he sprang like a cat with fierce eyes and bulging veins. He opened his mouth violently and screamed directly in Blaze’s face while holding his hands up in a way that signified he was about to attack.

  Blaze squeaked an instant before dropping his Timmygun and passing out, cold.

  “Well done, Pilk,” Kwap said, coming to Blaze’s aid, “but you’re supposed to do that to the bad guys.”

  “Oops.” Pilk pushed on Blaze’s shoulder, but the Dark Elf wasn’t budging. Then he stopped and looked back at Kwap. “Hey, I fought we was da bad guys?”

  “I’m talking about the other bad guys.”
/>   “Oh.”

  THE INTERVIEW ATTEMPT

  Misty Trealo had interviewed countless people over the years. Some were famous, and some were huddled in caves suffering from Zombieism. But in all of her years, she’d never interviewed a god... or a Fate, as the case may be.

  It had been a while since she’d left the microphone to work behind the scenes. Her friends had explained that it was a smart career move, but now that she was an executive she missed the old days.

  Still, she wasn’t nervous. This was what she’d grown up doing. She never worried about who she spoke with on camera. Her concern was simply making sure that the viewer was entertained, educated, or both.

  “We’re on,” announced Corg, pointing at Misty.

  “Good evening,” she said in her practiced manner. “My name is Misty Trealo and I am interviewing what you would consider a god. He’s not technically a god, though. In fact, he is the one who created the gods. His name is Heliok, and he is a Fate. What is a Fate? They are those who are above the gods, or more specifically in the case of Ononokin, The Twelve.” Feeling happy about her opening cadence, she turned to Heliok and said, “Can you tell us a little bit about yourself?”

  Heliok didn’t reply. He merely stared into the camera, virtually comatose.

  “Cut,” yelled Corg, walking over to Heliok. “What are ye doin’?”

  “Huh, what?”

  “Ye can’t just sit there like a buffoon. Ye gotta answer the questions.”

  Heliok gulped. “What questions?”

  “Argh,” said Corg, clenching his fists in rage.

  “I’ll handle this, Corg,” said Misty, gently shooing the Dwarf away. “Just get the cameras ready.”

  Corg gave Heliok one more glare before turning and heading back to his director’s chair. She knew that the Dwarf took a lot of pride in his work, and she did her best to respect that whenever possible, but there were times where he could stand using a little tact.

  Fate or not, Heliok’s face held terror. It was time to pull out the big guns against him.

  “You have to focus, Heliok; otherwise, this is not going to go well.”

  “Already feels like it’s not going well.”

  “It’s just first-time jitters,” she soothed. “Everyone gets that when the camera eye stares at them.”

  “Even you?”

  “No, but I’m different that way.” She had to find some type of motivator. Something that would tug at Heliok’s ego. Something that… She craned her head and said, “Let me ask you a question: Am I more powerful than you?”

  Heliok scoffed at the notion. “Hardly.”

  “Is there anything I can do that you couldn’t do better?”

  “Not a thing,” his answer came quickly.

  “Any place I can go that you can’t manage?”

  “No.”

  “Is there a person that I could defeat that would decimate you?”

  “Considering that I could oust you with a snap of my fingers,” he said confidently, “I think not.”

  “Then, pray tell,” she asked sweetly, “why are you nervous when I am calm?”

  “Because…” His breath caught and he gave her a surprised look. “Actually, that’s a very good point.”

  “It’s not the people who worry you, right?”

  “No, it isn’t the people.”

  “It’s not Mr. Sawsblade, I’m assuming?”

  “That’s mostly true,” he said out of the corner of his mouth. “Though for such a little fellow he can be a bit scary.”

  “Then what is it?”

  “It’s the lights. The cameras. The questions. It’s everything!”

  She’d heard this a thousand times over her years in the business. Nobody could really pinpoint what made them freak out when in front of the camera.

  It was akin to public speaking. On average, a person would rather die than speak to a crowd. In fact, there was a study done in the town of Hubintegler where researchers asked one thousand people which they would choose between giving a speech to a room full of Orcs or facing a quick, painless death. Ninety-three percent chose death. To be fair, if your speech was poorly accepted in front of a group of Orcs, you would be facing a slow, painful death. Thus, the study wasn’t accepted by scholars as being valid. Regardless, Misty had been with enough terrified interviewees to know that fear of public speaking was a real thing indeed.

  “What can we do to make this more comfortable for you?” she asked.

  Without missing a beat, he said, “Turn out the lights and turn off the cameras.”

  “Now you know that would make our agreement pointless. We’re trying to improve your image with the people, right?”

  “Yes, you’re right.”

  “Can you think of a better way than this to prove to all of Ononokin that you truly exist?” she asked, motioning towards the cameras.

  “Plagues?” he suggested hopefully.

  “That’s beneath you. The Twelve pull stunts like that, not the Fates.”

  “True.”

  “You have to show you are without flaw,” she said, raising her voice. “You have to show that you are in control.” She was louder now. “You have to show that you are unstoppable.” Louder still. Finally, she slammed her hands on the leather chair and yelled, “You have to be the man!”

  Heliok was sitting on the edge of his seat until that last statement.

  “Sorry?” he said. “The man?”

  “The Fate,” Misty replied, feeling silly. “I meant to say that you have to be the Fate.”

  “I can do that?”

  “You can do that.”

  “I can do that!” said Heliok with a wild-eyed glare.

  “Good,” said Misty as she quickly turned to Corg. “Roll ’em!”

  BOUNCING AROUND

  The crate was bouncing like mad as the jolly Giant sped through the woods. Trees zipped by with such speed they were a blur.

  Whizzfiddle tried to keep his eyes shut, but that only served to make the jarring of the ride worse.

  Instead he focused on trying to locate birds and other forms of wildlife. All he saw, though, was tree bark and the odd bush here and there. At one point he thought he'd spotted a Red-Tailed Snippy, which was a small bird that had a knack for taking pieces of your flesh while you weren't looking. They were also known as Vampire Birds due to this odd behavior. Interestingly, they never ate the flesh or the blood. It was as if they just got a kick out of being little bastards.

  His knuckles were white as he held on for dear life. The others weren’t faring much better, aside from Gungren, of course. He didn’t seem bothered at all. In fact, he was reading one of his books while sitting near the edge of the crate.”

  “Iiii thoughtttt whennnn heeeee wassss walkingggg itttt wassss baddd,” Whizzfiddle yelled at Kelsa.

  “Iii thinkkk myyy insidesss areee commingg looooose,” Kelsa called back.

  Eloquen let go of the crate at just the wrong moment. Lub had leaped over a creek and the sudden change in motion threw the Elf out through the air.

  “Free to fly in a state of bliss until the ground conveys its painful courting,” yelped Eloquen.

  Without missing a step, Lub reached back and plucked Eloquen out of the air, dropping the shaken Elf back into the basket.

  “For dem safety,” announced the Giant, “please keep arms and legs in da basket at all times. Even if dey ain’t belongs to you.”

  MUTE YOUR PHONES

  Kwap’s henchmen had fanned out across the compound. It was getting dark and he could only make out a few of them in the immediate area.

  Everyone was at the ready.

  He gave the plan one last mulling over before shrugging. There was really no way around it. If he wanted to get Jack out of the building alive, he was going to have to attack. Kleeshay had forced his hand.

  Kwap grunted at the mental use of a cliché.

  “Everyone mute,” he said into his TalkyThingy.

  “Bah dee dah d
oo dee,” came the singing voice of Pilk.

  “Pilk?” said Kwap with a grimace.

  “Yep?”

  “Mute your phone, please?”

  “Okidoki.”

  “Thank you.” He waited a few more seconds to make sure they’d all clicked their microphones off. “You should all have your weapons ready. Double-check the safety switches.” One could never be too pedantic with the caliber of henchmen mob bosses got in Pren. “This is going to be quite a fight. I’m guessing a real blood bath. Now—”

  “Bah dee dah doo dee doo—”

  “Pilk!”

  There was a pause. “Yep?”

  “Didn’t I ask you to mute your phone?” Kwap said, fighting to keep his ire down.

  “Yep.”

  “Then why can I hear you?”

  “Cause I are talking.”

  “No, you...” He held back a derogatory name. “Why isn’t your phone muted?”

  “Cause I not know how to do dat,” answered Pilk.

  Kwap pinched the bridge of his nose and keyed his phone over. “Blaze?”

  “I’ll take care of it, boss.”

  Blaze didn’t sound like he’d fully recovered from his incident with Pilk earlier, but that was probably just what would make the Dark Elf guarantee that the Ogre’s phone would go on mute.

  “Good.” Kwap took a deep breath. “As I was saying, this is going to be a real blood bath. We have to have our wits about us if we want to come out of this alive. I don’t want anyone moving in until I say so. Is that clear?”

  There was nothing but silence in return.

  “I’m assuming that you’re all saying ‘yes’ even though you’re on mute. Again, nobody goes in until I say so.”

  Silence was still the only answer.

  “Right,” said Kwap with a sigh. “Well, let’s get into position and wait for the dusk to settle in. You can un-mute now, but keep the chatter to a minimum.”

  ARRIVING IN PREN

  This time I know I’m going to be ill,” said Whizzfiddle as he dipped his head behind a bush.