Charming, Volume 1

by Jack Heckel

  The Scarlet Scoundrel’s face brightened. “Let me understand this, Lord Protector. You will have but one throw with a sling, and I may shoot my bow thrice? Victory will be determined by the number of birds we bring down from the tree? And you will swear to abide by the result of this contest?”

  “You have my word as Lord Protector of this realm.”

  Behind him Tomas hissed, “This is madness, Will, you’ll never be able to . . .”

  The Scarlet Scoundrel did not allow the squire any more time to talk, “I agree! Let’s shake on it.”

  Will offered his hand warily, but there were no tricks. The Scoundrel had a firm and warm handshake. As soon as he withdrew his hand, the bandit laughed, “Aha! You have just cost yourself your freedom, as well as the freedom of the King and your squire.”

  The Scoundrel stepped forward and, in a single fluid motion, drew his bow and fitted an arrow to the string. “Everyone bear witness. I, the most skilled archer in all the land, shall now provide you with a display of shooting fit for legend.”

  He aimed but briefly and then loosed an arrow. The first shaft struck a bird high in the tree. It exploded in a spray of black feathers. Before it had even hit the ground, a second arrow was on its way. It neatly impaled another bird, sending it plummeting to the ground. The first two shots had happened so quickly, and so quietly, that the remaining birds had not stirred a feather. This time the Scoundrel took a moment to aim, then, exhaling deeply, he loosed his last bolt. The arrow flew straight into the densest grouping of birds. A black mass dropped from the tree to the ground below, and the remaining birds took to the air in a cacophony of shrieking caws.

  Will whistled, “Very impressive shooting Scarlet. One for each arrow, so that would be three . . .”

  “I think you will find it is four, Lord Protector,” the Scoundrel countered with a rather poor attempt at humility.

  Sure enough, one of the Scoundrel’s men came forward carrying the carcasses of four large crows, the last shot having impaled two.

  Will bowed to the man. “I stand corrected. You are surely an archer beyond compare. Now, if you will supply me a sling and allow a few moments for the birds to return, I shall prepare myself.”

  The Scarlet Scoundrel doffed his cap with a flourish and made a deep bow. “As you wish, Lord Protector.” A man came forward and offered Will a much-­worn slingshot. He gave it a few practice twirls to get a feel for it. The men chuckled and jeered, but the Scoundrel raised his hand and glowered at his band. “Quiet. Show some respect.”

  Slowly, the birds returned to their perches in the tree. Will stepped forward and poured out a measure of Tomas’s seeds into the sling’s cradle. He took a deep breath and, taking careful aim at the tree, spun the sling rapidly over his head and loosed his shot. The little projectiles flew straight and true, but landed harmlessly at the base of the tree.

  The Scarlet Scoundrel stretched his hands out in puzzlement. “Lord Protector, you . . . you missed entirely. I can’t believe it. I have to say I’m more than a little dis—­”

  Suddenly, there was a rustling movement in the tree and, en masse, the remaining birds descended from their perches and began scrabbling at the ground where the seed had fallen.

  “—­appointed?”

  Will squinted toward the milling throng and mouthed silently as he counted. “I am not sure how many birds I just brought down, Scarlet Scoundrel, but I would ask that you agree as a gentleman that it is more than four.”

  Silence fell over the bandits, and even the Scoundrel was speechless, well, nearly speechless. “H—­How . . .”

  Will tossed the Scoundrel the little bag in answer. The bandit stared at it in confusion, and then, at Will’s prompting, emptied the contents into his palm. The bandit’s eyes grew wide, and there was a moment when Will feared the man might kill him anyway, but then he threw back his head and laughed loudly, “Seeds! Sunflower seeds!” He bowed to Will with a sweep of his feathered cap. “Well done, Sir! You have defeated me fairly, the King is yours.” He turned to the men holding the elderly monarch. “Release His Royal Majesty, immediately!”

  With a gesture from their leader, the Scarlet Scoundrel’s men melted into the trees, leaving the King and the herald standing in openmouthed disbelief. Alone on the bridge, the bandit leader clasped Will’s hand once more. “It has been an honor to match wits with you, Lord Protector. You truly are a formidable foe, and I can see now why you are considered the greatest hero in all the realm. I hope that one day the name of . . . the Green Phantom and his Boisterous Band . . . will be as well known.”

  The Scoundrel arched an eyebrow and looked hopefully at him. Will rubbed his temples, and said flatly, “Better, Scar . . . Phantom. Better. While we’re on other topics, though, can I ask you a question that has been puzzling me?

  “Anything, Lord Protector.”

  “You seem to be a man of honor, Phantom, so why have you turned bandit?”

  To his credit, the man blushed bright red. To be honest, Lord Protector, it was little more than pique that started it, an insult by the King that could not be borne. But now I rather enjoy the life. Ah, speak of the devil . . .”

  Will turned to see the King making his way slowly onto the bridge with the help of his herald. The Scoundrel gave a jaunty little salute. “Farewell, Lord Protector, William Pickett. As for you, Your Majesty, we have unfinished business.”

  And, with a shouted, “AHA!” he made a running grab for the rope that still dangled above the bridge and swung himself back into the safety of the trees.

  Will shook his head at the retreating man and then turned his attention to the King. He and Tomas each dropped to a knee. “Your Majesty, it is good to see that you are well.”

  The King placed a hand on Will’s shoulder. “Rise, Lord Protector, William Pickett, you should bow to no one. You have now twice saved me. First from my shame, and now from capture. When this story is told, and I will make sure that it is, your legend as the hero of the realm will be ensured for all time. For what you have done for me, I would give you anything. If you asked of me the throne, I swear I would make it yours.”

  Will stayed on his knee and stared at the planks of the bridge. “Please, Your Majesty, don’t say that, there is too much that I need to tell you . . .” Will’s heart was hammering in his chest.

  Behind him, Tomas groaned audibly. “Perhaps this can wait for another time, Your Lordship.”

  “No, Tomas. The time has come for me to give the King the truth about how the dragon died.”

  And so he did. When he finished, the King stroked his chin and intoned ponderously, “Well, well, that explains quite a lot.”

  “Yes, Your Majesty. But please, Sire, my sister, Elizabeth, she is innocent. I forced her to undertake this deception. ”

  The King laughed aloud at this. “You are at a disadvantage, Lord William. You forget that I have met your most formidable sister. Forced? I think not. Now, let me ask you a question. Why have you told me this?”

  “Because it is the truth, Your Majesty. I am not a hero, and I should not be the kingdom’s Lord Protector. I—­I don’t even know how to hold a sword, much less swing one.”

  The King laughed again, but this time it had a hard bitter sound to it. “Will, you are talking to a man who has lived a life of cowardice. If I am the measure of what it takes to be a king, then you have proven yourself many times over. Now, I shall hear no more about this. The kingdom needs a hero, and I charge you with fulfilling that role, understood?”

  Will sighed in relief. “Yes, Your Majesty. Thank you, Your Majesty. But, please, Sire, could we not discuss the throne just yet? It scares me senseless.”

  “Agreed,” the King declared with a laugh. “Now, let us away. The Scarlet Scoundrel was a most welcoming host, but his bathing facilities were not exactly up to my standards.”

  Will helped the King onto the
waiting charger. “So the bandits were not too rough with you, Your Majesty?”

  “Rough? What? Daniel, I mean the Scarlet Phantom, or whatever he has decided to call himself, would never hurt me.”

  “Wait! Daniel? You know him? The Green Scoun—­ I mean, the Scarlet Phant—­ Well, him, Your Majesty?”

  “Yes, yes.” The King waved dismissively. “His father has been one of my good friends and hunting companions for years. I have known Daniel since he was a young boy.”

  “But why, then, did he kidnap you, Sire?”

  “Oh, he’s gotten the crazy idea in his head that I snubbed his family. He says it’s about unfair income distribution or something equally ridiculous, but there you go.”

  The King prattled on as they rode, and all Will could think was that nobles really were mad as snakes. It was while he was trying to puzzle out the why of it that he heard the King ask him a question in a tone that seemed to indicate it was not his first attempt.

  “Sorry, Your Majesty. What was that?”

  “I said, how did you know where I was?”

  “We did not, Your Majesty. It was purest chance. The Prince found out that some bandits were planning to abduct the local count and . . .”

  “Local count? Are you sure my son told you this?”

  “Yes, Your Majesty,” said Will, turning as best he could to answer the King.

  The King’s face was drawn and pale, almost like a cloud had descended over it. “But there is no local count here.”

  “Well, I’m sure he just got it wrong,” Will said, adding in an offhand way, “Everyone makes mistakes now and then.”

  The King reined his horse to a stop, forcing Will to follow suit. The monarch fixed him with a gaze that was hard and regal, and reminded Will that he was in the presence of a man used to commanding men and demanding absolute obedience. “No, Will,” he said gravely, “just as not all mistakes are allowable, not everyone is allowed to make mistakes.”

  The rest of the journey back to the Cooked Goose was made in silence.

  PRINCE CHARMING AWOKE to the sound of hoofbeats. A late afternoon sun was streaming through the window. “My father, the King!” he shouted. “He must have retired to his hunting cottage. That is where he has been hiding all this time. The bandits! I must warn Will.” He fought his swimming head and forced himself to his feet.

  Just then a well-­trained voice boomed and echoed from outside. “HEAR YE, HEAR YE, MAKE WAY FOR HIS ROYAL MAJESTY, THE KING, WHO HAS BEEN RESCUED THIS VERY DAY BY THE LORD PROTECTOR FROM THE CLUTCHES OF THE VILE VILLAIN, THE SCARLET PHANTOM.”

  Charming’s heart dropped and he shambled to the window. Will was helping his father, the King, dismount from the back of his charger. The Prince stumbled out the front of the tavern in a rush. “Father, Father, have you been harmed?”

  At first, the King recoiled at the beaten figure stumbling toward him. Then there was a flash of recognition, and the monarch’s features hardened. “Edward.”

  As soon as Charming heard his father’s tone, he stopped. Somehow his treachery had been discovered. Charming fell to his knees in supplication, and did the bravest thing he had ever done—­he looked into the eyes of his father, the King.

  “I will give you one chance to explain, Edward.”

  “I . . .” He ran through his list of excuses, and rejected them all. “I have betrayed the Lord Protector, Your Majesty. There can be no explanation, and I will offer no excuse.”

  The King looked down at his son somberly. “You know what I must do, what I have vowed I will do.”

  Charming nodded mutely and turned his eyes to the ground.

  “Why?” It was as close to a plea as Charming had ever heard from his father, the King.

  “I don’t know.”

  The King’s voice took on its most commanding tone. “Edward Michael Charming, for your base cowardice and treachery, I hereby strip you of all titles and banish you from the court.”

  A sob choked from Charming’s throat and he looked up at his father, the King, with his eyes stinging. “I am sorry, Father, I—­”

  The King’s eyes flashed with anger. “How dare you address me so? From this day, I have no son.”

  “Your Majesty,” Will pleaded. “I don’t under—­”

  The King held up a hand, silencing his entreaties. “This is not a matter open for discussion, Lord Protector.” He turned his attention back to Charming, on his knees at the King’s feet. “You are not welcome here, Edward. You must find your accommodations somewhere else.”

  “Y-­Yes, Your Majesty,” Charming stuttered.

  The former Prince watched his father sweep nobly into the tavern without a backward glance. The Royal Herald gave him a downward sneer, and then followed in the King’s wake. As soon as the two men were out of sight, Tomas and Will were at Charming’s side, helping him to his feet.

  “Prince Charming,” Tomas said softly, “I’m sure I don’t know what is going on, but whatever you’ve done, your father’s temper will cool.”

  Charming brushed the squire’s hands away. “No, Tomas. I have betrayed everything he taught me to represent. I am lost.”

  Will patted him on the back, “Come now, things aren’t so black as they seem. I can explain how you didn’t betray me. I mean all you did . . .”

  Charming cut his attempted consolation off. “I betrayed you, Will. I told you to go to that bridge knowing that it was a trap.” He bowed very low. “I do not expect your forgiveness, but I wish to offer my deepest apologies, Your Lordship.”

  Blushing, Will said, “Please, Prince Charming, don’t call me that.”

  “I am not Prince Charming any longer,” he snapped. “You may call me what you wish, if you wish to consider me at all, but I no longer have a title. Now, by order of the King, I must go.” He pulled himself upright and began marching along the road toward the dark woods.

  “What about your things, your horse?” Tomas called out after him.

  He walked on without turning, “Those belong to Prince Charming, Tomas. They are not mine.”

  Had any of the three turned at that moment to look back at the Cooked Goose, they would have seen in the window of the upper floor chamber, the pale face of the King staring down through the gray glass as his beloved only child disappeared along the road. There he would remain through the night, long after the dark, and the forest, had utterly consumed his son.

  EVENING FOUND EDWARD Charming stumbling through the deep forest. As darkness descended, rain began to fall. He staggered on until he fell exhausted to the ground. He looked up into the sky, rain pelting his face.

  “I am no longer Prince Charming. I . . .”

  He did not know what else to say. His mind was a fog, and his thoughts wandered from his father and Will to the dragon, at last finding their way to Elizabeth and the night at the ball. He remembered their dance and their fight, and then his heart sank as a cold truth struck him.

  “I shall never use ­couplet again.”

  Epilogue

  Hi-­ho!

  MORNING FOUND JAMES Collins deep in the woods tracking Liz. He was an expert woodsman and had spent nearly his whole life in the wild, hunting for game. He had followed Lady Elizabeth’s trail to the edge of a deep, dry creek bed, where her prints just stopped. Naturally, he thought she must have fallen, but at the bottom there was no Lady Elizabeth, nor any sign of her having left. Instead, there was a confused jumble that could only have been made by dozens and dozens of tiny booted feet. They marched in a double-­file line along the rocky creek bed. James followed them thinking, Children? What would children be doing in the middle of this godforsaken wood?

  After about a hundred paces, the trace entered a hard stone cavern and vanished. He peered into the darkness of the cave’s mouth. It smelled of rock and damp. The man grimaced and spat. “Not children, dwarves. Of all the be
astly luck, they’ll have her doing their laundry and cooking their meals in no time. Lazy little blighters—­dwarves.”

  He took a few steps into the cave. The cool wet air closed in around him and almost immediately the light began to fail. He stopped again and cursed. He would not follow a march of dwarves into an unknown cavern without a light. There was just no use in it, he would either get lost or fall down one of their damned mines, and then Princess Gwendolyn would be free to move against his mistress. He would have to return to Lady Rapunzel, ensure her safety, and then come back with a proper hunting party to track down the filthy little ruffians.

  He began to turn back but paused, and put both hands around his mouth, he shouted, “LADY ELIZABETH, DO NOT DESPAIR. I WILL RETURN. AND, DWARVES, IF YOU HARM HER, OR FORCE HER TO DO EVEN A SINGLE DISH, YOU WILL ANSWER TO ME!”

  His voiced echoed back for a time in an endless loop and then faded. He frowned again at the dark hole. Perhaps he had imagined it, but he could have sworn he heard a tiny little voice echo back, “Hi-­Ho!”

  Read on for an excerpt from

  Happily Never After

  Volume II of the Charming Tales

  Available November 11, 2014

  from HarperVoyager Impulse

  Prologue

  MIDNIGHT’S QUIET HAD wrapped itself about Castle White as a twelve-­year-­old Charming padded down the long hall in his slippered feet. He was on his way back from the kitchens, having liberated another of the lovely apricot tarts the baker so jealously guarded. He savored his victory with a bite, reveling in the perfection of the pastry.

  Such raids were strictly forbidden, of course, and indeed all of the servants were abuzz with the question of who could be stealing the King’s favorite desserts, but Charming was no novice at such intrigues. He knew the castle well enough to evade the traps the head cook had set, to slip past the alcoves in the hall where the night footmen stood guard, and to avoid the curtains in the music salon where a maid sat waiting. He even knew about the broom closet where, tonight, the baker himself had tried to keep vigil.