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

by John P. Logsdon

  Jill said, “Gah!” as she stomped her feet around heavily with the look that she was desperately in need of punching something. “Am I the only one who was blind to all of this?”

  “I feel just terrible, my lady.”

  “Not as bad as you’re going to feel,” Jill stated flatly. “I’ll have you court-martialed for this.”

  “No, you won’t,” said Jack.

  “Don’t you tell me how to run my kingdom, Jack Nubbins. You can barely—”

  “Jill, stop,” said Jack with a strength that surprised Whizzfiddle, and clearly shocked the princess as well because she did stop. “You need my kingdom’s hemp in order to run a business that your father will heartily despise. If you do anything to Kelsa beyond letting her go free of service so that she and I can get married, I’ll not help you one bit.”

  The princess was, for once, speechless. She sat back down on the log and crossed her arms.

  “Do we have a deal, Jill?” asked Jack.

  Jill looked up at all the nodding faces. It was clear that each person in the troop knew it was the smart move on her part. Embarrassed or not, she had to have been taught the importance of putting her kingdom first. It was another royal precept.

  “Fine,” she replied stoically, “but I’m not happy about this.”

  “That’s understandable,” said Jack.

  “We have another problem,” Kwap spoke up after a second. “Deliveries. How are we going to get all that soap from the Upperworld down here? We don’t exactly have a Upperworld/Underworld Postal Service, you know.”

  “True,” said Jack. “A UUPS would be great.”

  Whizzfiddle stroked his beard. “I rather fancy that idea, actually. If you do turn something up, I shall be pleased to invest a few coins. In the soap business too, if you need some seeding.”

  “Yeah?” said Kwap, arching his eyebrow.

  And that’s when Kelsa stepped past Jack and said, “I have an idea.”

  ALL'S WELL THAT ENDS WELL... SORTA

  Kleeshay felt disoriented. Everything was a haze. He didn’t feel bad, per se. In fact, he’d describe the feeling as somewhat euphoric, though there was a bit of a headache going on.

  He was in a hall of some sort. There were people of all shapes and sizes roaming the entirety of the area. Lines were formed beneath massive sculptures of each primary race living in Ononokin. He glanced sluggishly at the head of the Orc that marked his people and noticed that the line under it was not very long. The building itself—if you could call it that—was vast, yet oddly cozy. Everything was white and glossy without being pretentious. The rumble of sound was exceedingly loud, but he could hear those around him with perfect clarity. The air was pure, though something told him that it was wholly unnecessary.

  “Hello, sir,” said a smiling Orc who was wearing a suit and holding a clipboard. “Welcome to the Afterlife.”

  “Where am I?” asked Kleeshay, glassy-eyed.

  “Again, you’re in the Afterlife.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “That’s common,” said the host gently. “It usually takes a while to acclimate. What do you last remember?”

  “Pardon?”

  “Usually when people talk through their final memories, everything becomes clear again.”

  “Okay,” Kleeshay said, trying desperately to fight through the fog. “Let’s see, I had just been voted in as the kingpin down in Pren. That was because I had received my MBA diploma in the mail. Uh, the Mob Oversight Committee had just left. They took Kwap away and... a prince?” He was struggling. “Um... the bosses were all talking about what they could do to get the government out of our affairs, and I interrupted their discussion to announce that to be a crime boss you had to have a legitimate bachelors degree...” He put his eyes back on the host, who was nodding knowingly. “Oh, I get it now.”

  “Yes.”

  He looked around the area, noting how clean and breezy it felt.

  “So I’m dead?”

  “Quite.”

  “Hey, wait a second,” Kleeshay said. “I just noticed that I don’t have the urge to speak in clichés anymore. Seems rather odd. It was something I had relished doing.”

  “Personality quirks don’t always translate into the Afterlife, I’m afraid,” said the host.

  “That’s strange.”

  “The Twelve have their reasons, I’m sure.”

  Kleeshay saw many people showing up from all walks of life and all races. They were mostly smiling and running to loved ones who had obviously passed on. He had nobody waiting for him, of course. In his life, he’d been a one-Orc show. That was his plan. He had no regrets... or at least that’s what he told himself.

  “Right. So what happens now?”

  “We have to find you a job,” the host said, pointing at his clipboard.

  Kleeshay blanched.

  “A job? But this is Heaven, right?”

  “For some,” the host replied apologetically.

  “I don’t understand.”

  The host took a deep breath and gave Kleeshay a sad look.

  “What?” said Kleeshay, feeling worried.

  “Maybe it would be best to put it in terms you’d likely understand,” said the host. “The road to hell is paved with good intentions.”

  “Oh, crap.”

  “Yes.”

  UUPS

  So you would essentially be giving piggyback rides to big containers of soap,” Kelsa explained to Lub after they’d gotten back over near the enormous park in Wikr.

  It had turned out to only be about two miles from where Lub had ultimately dropped them off at the border of Pren.

  “Soap?” Lub replied, scratching his head.

  “That’s right. We would send the soap to the nearest portals. You and your crew would pick up the shipments and run them to the distribution centers.”

  “Dats a good idear,” Lub said as the proverbial light bulb came to life in his eyes. “We could do dat wif lots of stuff!”

  “That’s exactly what we were thinking,” said Kelsa.

  “And you would be one of the lead employees, Lub,” Whizzfiddle noted.

  “Nah, I want own part of it.”

  “Pardon?”

  Lub shook his head and seemed a bit frustrated.

  “Why you widdle people fink dat just ‘cause we ain’t got smart sounds comin’ out our moufs dat we is dumb? I got Associates in Businersness Adminitrathing, ya know?”

  “Well, I’ll be,” said Whizzfiddle, taken aback.

  “Why you fink I do piggyback stuff? I got a lot of student loans ter pay off.”

  “Him make a lot of sense,” Gungren piped up. “You guys work this out later, though. I got to finish this quest stuff.”

  “Gungren’s right,” agreed Whizzfiddle.

  “Fair enough,” said Jack, shaking Kwap’s hand. “We’ll draw up the papers and be in touch with you.”

  “Good, good,” said Kwap. “Sorry for the troubles, but really glad that it all worked out.”

  Jill had her arm wrapped around Kwap’s at this point. They’d obviously moved along pretty quickly in their relationship. To be fair, though, they’d sort of been dating since college. The love letters going back and forth had been between Kwap and the princess, after all.

  “I’m going to stay down here to get to know the, uh, area better.” She grinned at Kwap before reaching into her jacket and handing an envelope to Kelsa. “Give my parents this letter. It explains everything and also relieves you of your obligation to the kingdom.”

  Kelsa was shocked. “Thank you, my lady.”

  “You don’t work for me anymore, Kelsa,” Jill said. “Just call me Jill.”

  Kelsa smiled and bowed slightly.

  “Sorry for all the hiding in shadows, Jill,” Jack said, still looking rather guilty. “Never meant to hurt you.”

  “It turned out for the best. I fear that we would have been miserable anyway.” Jill looked away. “I know we would have.”
<
br />   NEW CHOPPERS

  Heliok was all smiles in his office as he sat across the desk from Gungren.

  For his part, Gungren was just happy to be done with the first leg of the quest. It hadn’t been overly complicated, but he assumed that each one would be more challenging than the next. At least, he hoped they would be.

  “Well done, Gungren.”

  “Thanks. It means I’m one step closer to being a real wizard, right?”

  “Uh, right, sure. And it also means that we’re going to fix your teeth.”

  “I not care about that,” said Gungren.

  “Zoom in the camera on this bit, ya gangly Fate,” Corg demanded.

  Aniok merely nodded and said, “Got it.”

  “Sorry, Gungren,” Heliok explained, leaning in, “but it’s our agreement. Now this won’t hurt at all.”

  Heliok flicked his wrist and there was a flash of light around Gungren’s mouth. It lasted a couple of seconds until a sound that went bling radiated through the room. Gungren felt his mouth buzzing for a moment and then it stopped.

  “Smile.”

  “Why?”

  “Just do it, ye dopey apprentice!”

  Gungren complied.

  “There, much nicer,” Heliok said proudly.

  “I feel weird. Like I can say ‘thanks’ instead of ‘tanks.’ I hear the ‘h’ in that thing now.”

  “Indeed.”

  “And got it,” announced Corg. “That’s a wrap. Send us back to our station, eh? We’re after havin’ a lot of mixin’ and masterin’ to do.”

  “Wouldn’t you rather do that in our production house?” asked Heliok.

  “No foolin’?” Corg said with his eyes wide.

  “No fooling.”

  “And I’m still after bein’ in charge?”

  “Yes.”

  Corg smacked his lips. “Let’s do that, then!”

  Heliok nodded and snapped his fingers. The entire camera crew and production staff disappeared from the area, leaving only the Fate and Gungren in the room.

  “And now we await the next quest to present itself,” Heliok said. “If you accomplish that one as swimmingly as you have this one, you’ll have your body fixed up.”

  Gungren nodded. “When will you know what it going to be?”

  “Soon, my little friend. Soon.”

  WANT A CARROT?

  I have to hand it to you, Gungren, you did a solid job on this quest.”

  “Thanks, master.”

  Whizzfiddle was sitting in his kitchen eating a cheese sandwich that Gungren had fixed up for him. He also had a side of freshly squeezed apple juice. His apprentice was quite good with making juices. Whizzfiddle even allowed the little Giant to use magic to address the final points of flavor.

  He glanced up at Gungren, who looked just a smidgen more presentable than usual.

  “I have to say I’m surprised you’re getting your person fixed up in the process.”

  “I just wanna be a real wizard,” Gungren said with a shrug.

  “Doesn’t matter what you look like, Gungren. There are many homely... erm, unique-looking wizards out there.”

  “Yep.”

  “With those new choppers you’ve got, you’ll need to have a steady supply of carrots.”

  “What?”

  Whizzfiddle shaded his eyes. “I daresay those teeth are so full and bright that you look like the very bunny you retrieved for that lad in Rangmoon.”

  “I not care about that,” Gungren said with a wave of his hand.

  “Right. So when is the next quest?”

  “Heliok not say. Him just tell me soon.” Gungren looked out the window. “I just hope it real soon.”

  The doorbell rang, causing Whizzfiddle to spill his juice. He’d always hated that bell. It was so loud and obnoxious. One day he’d have to change it out. Of course, he’d said that many times over the years.

  “I got it,” said Gungren, taking two steps and opening the door.

  “Hello there, Gungren,” said the postman. He leaned in and added, “Master Whizzfiddle.”

  “Charlie,” Whizzfiddle replied.

  “I daresay, Gungren, your teeth are blinding.”

  “They got fixed.”

  “Looks like you could use a steady supply of carrots.”

  “That what my master said.”

  “Right,” said Charlie. “Well, here’s your mail.”

  “Thank you.”

  “You bet. Bye now!”

  Charlie skipped down the walk as Gungren closed the door.

  “What have we got today?” Whizzfiddle said as he took the stack of envelopes from Gungren. “Bills, bills, bills...” He paused and held up a fashionable-looking letter. “Oh, what’s this?”

  “What?”

  Whizzfiddle carefully opened it and smiled. “It seems we’ve been invited to the dual wedding of Jack and Kelsa, and Kwap and Jill.”

  “I like that,” Gungren said, showing the full breadth of his new teeth. “Make me feel like I helped somehow.”

  “I daresay you helped entirely. Of course,” he added with a sigh, “so did the Fates.”

  “Yep.”

  THE WEDDING

  After much bickering, it had been decided that the weddings would be held on a small patch of land that bordered the Nubbins and Henroot kingdoms. Jill and Kwap would be married on the Henroot side and Jack and Kelsa on the Nubbins side.

  The sides were decorated in stark contrasts. On the Henroot side were rows of cherry blossom branches, chrysanthemums, hydrangeas, and spray roses; on the Nubbins side were hemp plants sculpted into various shapes. The altar on the Henroot side was tall with craftsman styling and white paint; the altar on the Nubbins side was made of sticks wrapped with vines. The clergy for the Henroots wore the standard white robe with a matching hat that marked him as being a high-ranking member of the faith; the Nubbins's had a lady with a tie-dye shirt, loosely-fitting hemp pants, and a wool hat that sat just above a set of half-closed eyes.

  Chairs were lined up to the east and west as well, making the processional path dead-center on the border.

  Whizzfiddle and Gungren hadn’t wanted to choose between the options, but seeing that Henroot seats were half-filled with Orcs, they’d elected to sit with the Nubbins clan.

  “This am nice,” said Gungren as the sunshine bounced off the side of his face. “Even if I end up back as a Giant again, I hope I can at least remember stuff like this.”

  “Don’t talk like that, Gungren,” admonished Whizzfiddle. “We’ll figure it out one way or the other.”

  He’d hoped that was true, anyway.

  The fact was that he had no way to guarantee that. Sure, he could rely on the mercy of the Wizards’ Guild to see to it that Gungren made it into their halls, but he knew his apprentice well enough to know that he wouldn’t accept it. The boy had ethics. He’d rather be able to sleep at night as a Giant knowing that he’d done the right thing than to go through life feeling guilty over cheating the system.

  If only more wizards carried that same morality the world would be a better place.

  “I hope so,” Gungren said as the music came on.

  Kwap and Jack had stepped up to the pulpit on either side. They both looked sharp. Jack was wearing his handmade hemp royal uniform that was covered in reds and blues, and Kwap donned a purple Orc gown that signified the traditions of his people.

  Whizzfiddle spun back to see the two brides walking side by side.

  Princess Jill Henroot wore a long and flowing white dress that was laced with pearls and fine gems. She was a vision, assuming you didn’t know her underlying temperament, anyway.

  Kelsa walked firmly beside her, wearing a gown that was not nearly as flashy, but she was radiant all the same. Plus, the way she carried herself made it clear she was going to hold the position of Princess Kelsa Nubbins with dignity and honor.

  The service took roughly an hour to complete, mostly because the clergy got their full play of songs, odd
rituals, and strange chants out of the way, but also because Jill had taken a few moments to have all the fluff removed from her gown. Once done, her outfit was as plain as Kelsa’s. The two hugged, and Whizzfiddle’s estimation of Jill went up a fair number of notches.

  “I guess a zebra can change the spots on it,” said Gungren.

  “A zebra has stripes, Gungren.”

  “Oh, yeah, that right. I get them confused with Elerphants.”

  “Hmmm.”

  § § §

  “Well, Nubbins,” King Corbain said as the two men sat next to each other at the royal table, “I fear that it would have been better for our two lands to have merged after all.”

  “Yeah?” replied King Nubbins in his chilled way.

  “Better hemp than Orcs,” Corbain said before he slowly drained the contents of his tankard. “Plus, you got one of my best guards. Best-looking, anyway. Actually not much of a fighter, that one.”

  “Right on.”

  “I honestly don’t know how I’m going to get through all of this,” Corbain continued, obviously stressed over the entire situation. “I know Jill does these things to taunt me, but this is going a little far, wouldn’t you agree?”

  “You mean because he’s an Orc?”

  “Nice to see that not all of your brain cells have been singed away, Nubbins.”

  Corbain glanced across the room as his daughter danced with that damnable Kwap.

  In all fairness, the hour-long meeting he’d had with the Orc demonstrated that the boy had it together. He was tough, gruff, and rough, as expected, but he was also smart and had a solid business sense. The king’s advisers explained that beyond their combat skills, Orcs were notorious for being ruthless in the realm of corporate battle.

  The story went that the Orcs had kept with their warring and pillaging over a few hundred years until the other races pulled together and gave them a solid thrashing. However, instead of leaving them to their own devices, psychologists were sent in to discover how they could best contribute to society so that they didn’t fall back into their default skull-crushing mentality. The overwhelming result was to teach them economics, business, marketing, sales, and political science. Orcs had turned from the axe to the pen. One could argue they'd caused more decimation doing business than they'd ever done through bloodshed.