The Second Mango (The Mangoverse Book 1)

by Shira Glassman

  Rivka picked up one of the pebbles from the path and chucked it through the door. It was a good three seconds before they heard a tiny tock noise -- a noise that clearly came from much farther away.

  “See? No floor.” Rivka was still holding Shulamit’s wrist and dragged the queen behind her as she stalked around the fortress entrance. “That’s not the real way in.”

  “But what about Ori?”

  “She’s there to lure intruders to fall to their deaths,” Rivka explained. “See, she has no effect on me -- I bet it never occurred to that schmendrick that women would ever try to break in. He just thinks of women as prizes, not people.”

  “She wouldn’t catch a man if he were like me, either,” observed the queen with a somber face. “But he probably isn’t too worried about them.”

  “I wouldn’t be surprised if she were just an illusion,” Rivka added. “She’s not coming after us. Follow me this way while I look for a real entrance.”

  Both human and horse obeyed. Shulamit glanced back down the rocky path at Ori, who was still looking after them with big sad eyes -- but, as Rivka said, without any attempt to call them back. She felt foolish.

  But she quickly redeemed herself. “Hey! There!”

  Rivka studied the spot where Shulamit was pointing. It appeared to be just more solid rock face, with the type of texture that happens when a slice of rock sheers off and falls to the ground -- but its solidness was an illusion. Part of the rock was actually behind the section of rock beside it, and it was possible to slip between the two and venture inside. “Good work, Queenling!”

  Shulamit smiled with half her face.

  The women and the horse stepped inside and found themselves in a dark hall of stone, lit only by skylights. There was nowhere to walk except forward, so they proceeded down the hallway. Their footsteps echoed in the cold, dark-gray world. It was cooler in here than outside, and silent, and felt terrifyingly timeless. By the time they reached the door at the end of the passageway, several minutes had gone by and they could no longer even see any light from the entrance through which they had come -- only the feeble light from above.

  Rivka put a firm grip on the door handle and pulled it forward.

  The next room was better lit, and decorated with all manner of military artifacts. “Wow,” Rivka exclaimed breathily. “These aren’t just from Perach -- those over there are from Imbrio, and Zembluss, and some of the other little countries to the north. I remember meeting them in battle.”

  “There are so many different types.” Shulamit peered around at the abundance and disarray.

  “Look over there.” Rivka pointed to the far side of the room, a wistful note in her voice. “Those armor and weapons are from my homeland. And those -- I’ve never even seen those in person. I just recognize them from Isaac’s history books.” She paused. “I bet he could identify every single thing in this room. Oy vey iz mir, Queenling, do I miss him...”

  Shulamit didn’t say anything, because she couldn’t find the right words to comfort her. But into the silence there suddenly came a horrible noise, a rough clang like metal falling into metal. Then two of the suits of armor began to pace forward from the wall, toward the women. Rivka stepped out in front of Shulamit and unsheathed her sword. She held it at the ready, eyes narrowed.

  Chapter 13: The Sorcerer’s Arsenal

  Both soulless suits of armor picked up a sword and brandished it. Shulamit’s eyes went from one to the other. They looked identical. Rivka stood at the ready, head held high, clearly waiting for one of them to do something.

  “You protect a worthless child!” rasped the one on the right, glaring at Rivka. “A spoiled princess is no queen.”

  Shulamit, cowering behind Rivka, gritted her teeth. “Don’t listen to them!” hissed Rivka. “I don’t know what they’re up to.”

  “What right have you to seek a woman for your sweetheart, when those women who work hard for their living may never be able to follow their true nature?” continued the disembodied male voice from the armor on the right. “You are an undeserving fool.”

  “I’m not a fool!” Shulamit shouted. “I may be pampered, but at least my brain works. A brain that you don’t even have, you overgrown tin drinking vessel!” But her face was hot, and her heart was pounding.

  Then the armor on the left lifted his sword against Rivka. She blocked the blow and began to fight him, leaving Shulamit unprotected from the other suit of armor. It stomped around the fighting pair to face Shulamit. “No sword? Do you expect to escape me with the pathetic bits of self-defense this harpy has been teaching you?”

  “No, not really!” Shulamit darted across the room and climbed into a small alcove behind a display cabinet full of daggers. The suit of armor followed, swinging its sword. She was trapped, but at least she was so far inside her hiding place that its reach was too short to injure her.

  “What right have you to jeopardize your father’s kingdom by not marrying to produce an heir? Perach should never have been trusted to a freak like you.”

  Shulamit narrowed her eyes and gritted her teeth. “I don’t have to think about that yet.” But she knew it was right, at least about the heir.

  “You think you’re so smart, but look how distracted you were when Ori’s nipples were pointing at you outside! You could be so easily manipulated.” The suit of armor crashed its sword against the display cabinet, shattering its glass.

  Shulamit pulled herself tighter into a ball and shut her eyes to protect herself from the flying shards. She was still ashamed about Ori. Wasn’t this whole trip unfair to the kingdom in some way? If she died here, in this castle, because she’d gone off looking for feminine companionship, it would just prove she’d been too broken to rule from the start. She’d worried about that from the beginning, especially because liking women wasn’t the only surprise her body had thrown at her.

  “One day, your subjects will see you sick from your food, and, oh, will they be disgusted!” shouted the suit of armor. “How could anybody touch such a body with love, a body that spews filth without control?”

  Shulamit covered her face at the images its words were putting into her head.

  “Useless daughter of indolence!” it shouted at her. “It’s no surprise your lover lost patience with you!”

  Shulamit burst into tears.

  “Of course she stayed for a while, your slutty cook, but she likes men too -- you had to have known you wouldn’t be able to keep her forever. Why would she stay with you when she could go off and have a real family with a husband to satisfy her properly?” The suit of armor stomped on the floor angrily, then began trying to rip the display cabinet off the wall so it could get at Shulamit. One entire shelf of the cabinet broke off in its mighty grip, and this it tossed inside the alcove. She ducked and squished her body farther against the corner.

  This was it. Rivka was busy fighting the other suit of armor and couldn’t rescue her, and she was going to die. Desperately, she whimpered, “Aba...” hoping that he would at least come down and get her and make it not hurt so much.

  Then she noticed that the suit of armor was having trouble ripping up the cabinet. It couldn’t muster the strength to tear off another shelf the way it had the first one. “Heartless walking fork,” said Shulamit bitterly, wiping away a tear that was dripping off her nose. “If you feed on negative thoughts, why don’t you just go for the mother lode? I lost my father. That should make you strong enough to knock down the wall -- the whole castle!”

  The suit of armor stumbled in confusion. Shulamit was confused too. The more overwhelmed by filial grief she felt, the less effective against her were its attacks. “Okay,” she mumbled to herself. “It’s not feeding on negative emotion. It’s feeding on insecurity. Well, then, I am completely amazing.” She walked out of the alcove, head held high, her arms folded across her chest. “I’m smart. I may not have grown up working hard, but I’m not afraid to do it when I have to. Maybe Aviva did run away because she got tired of me, b
ut I like myself. And I swear on my father’s grave I will never let my people down just because I’m different.”

  The suit of armor was standing completely motionless, but it still held its gleaming sword. Trembling, Shulamit reached out and took the weapon away from it.

  She had no idea what to do with it once she had it, but now the suit was unarmed, and that was the important thing.

  She scurried back to Rivka and was shocked to discover that the warrior maiden wasn’t doing so well. There was nothing flawed in her swordplay, but the suit of armor was stronger than she was, and had a skill beyond any that she had ever encountered.

  Shulamit listened to what it was saying. “--act without thinking, leading to death! You’ve always known that had you been more careful, Isaac would never have died,” rasped the armor in a flat, unemotional drone. “On long, lonely nights you’ve thought about how you should have gone straight up to his room once you discovered your sword was no longer secret. If you had gone to his room instead and taken his sword, you would have been armed when confronting your uncle. Those men couldn’t have held you, and he would have had no sway over Isaac. Together, the two of you could have fought your way out of the room and run away together. What have you cheated yourself out of, Rivka bat Beet-Greens? Think of the years together you’ve lost. Think of his voice, his eyes--”

  “Don’t listen to it, Rivka! It feeds on insecurity,” Shulamit shrieked.

  “I don’t care!” Rivka screamed back in agony. “It’s right!” She kept on fighting, but her breath heaved with fatigue.

  “Instead, you jumped in--” the armor continued.

  “I acted quickly out of bravery,” Rivka insisted.

  “Every brave act you have ever committed is tainted with what loss that bravery has wrought! Every time you rode, fearless, into battle, was disgraced by how your impetuousness cost you your wizard.”

  Shulamit, heady at her own victory over the armor, thought quickly. “No, Rivka! Remember? Remember how, as soon as your uncle had the sword, he sent the four guards to capture you? You didn’t even know they’d found the sword. Four guards showed up at your room, and burst in--”

  “What are you--?”

  Shulamit watched a change come over Rivka's face and hoped she was beginning to understand -- she needed to picture the events as Shulamit described them, not as they were. “Remember how horrible it felt to have Lev’s hands on your body? Remember his terrible breath? Remember the feel of the daggers poking against your skin?” The memories were from the Great Hall, when the baron had commanded his guards to clap hold of her, but Rivka had to imagine them taking place in her room instead -- or else they were lost.

  “You had no choice, no opportunity to make a decision,” Shulamit continued.

  Rivka concentrated on the lie. Soon, the suit of armor was more manageable, and eventually, she defeated it. Kicking it over with a loud yell, she grabbed its sword and tossed it into a corner. “Come on! The door!”

  They ran toward the door on the other side of the room, the horse following soon after. As soon as they were through, they banged it shut and leaned back against it.

  Rivka turned to look at Shulamit. “None of that was true.”

  “No, but I needed to save our lives,” Shulamit pointed out.

  “Thank you,” said Rivka. She was silent for a moment. “I can’t run away from that, though. I was impulsive and stupid and didn’t think, and now Isaac is gone. If I could do it over...”

  Shulamit didn’t know what to say, so she looked around the new room instead. “Is that a crystal ball?”

  The new room was full of dusty books and lit by sunlight pouring in through several open windows, but the table in the center of the room held a crystal ball. “It looks like it,” said Rivka. She approached the table. “Maybe I should ask it where the antidote is. Then we won’t even have to fight the sorcerer.” She held out her hand--

  Then the horse suddenly broke into a gallop, indoors though they were, and kicked the entire table over so hard the crystal ball was shot clear through one of the windows. Rivka and Shulamit ran to the window, but it was too late to catch it. One of the bird-master’s birds was flying past the window, and the unfortunate creature was right in the trajectory. Upon touching it, the ball exploded into an orange fireball. The smoke rushed toward the women, and they quickly drew back from the window, coughing and rubbing their pained eyes.

  “That could have been me,” Rivka said in shock. She put her arms around Dragon’s neck and rested her head against her mane for a moment.

  “How on earth--?” Shulamit looked at the horse, then at the table. Then she followed Rivka into the next room.

  Except for the intruders, this room was empty. It was a plain but somehow proportionally pleasant room, with plenty of sunlight and pretty much nothing else. “I don’t get it,” said Rivka, crankily. “What’s going to explode this time?”

  Shulamit pondered. “The bird attack was supposed to get rid of, well, most people trying to get in. Then there was Ori, the suits of armor, and the exploding ball. So, anyone who made it in here isn’t that interested in women, doesn’t have strong insecurities, and has no inclination to look into the future. I’m getting an image in my mind of a very holy man -- someone completely enlightened. You know what? I bet the idea is that an enlightened man would enter this room and then never leave. This room’s too perfect. He’d just sit here forever, pondering the universe.”

  “Too enlightened to have a sex drive, insecurities, or curiosity,” grumbled Rivka. “The two of us, that’s not! Oy gevalt.”

  “Yes, but if we had brought Sister Tamar along with us, we’d be carrying her away over our shoulders.” Shulamit grinned mischievously.

  “How do we get out of here?” Rivka wondered aloud, peering around. “The only way out, besides the windows, seems to be...”

  “Up there?”

  The ceiling of the room rose far higher on the far side than where they stood, and if they squinted they could make out a second level to the room, almost approximating a loft. “Nu, Dragon?”

  The horse walked up to them and transformed, but when they climbed onto her back, her wings flapped uselessly without lifting anyone into the air. “What’s the matter?”

  “She needs rest,” Rivka pointed out.

  They sat there on her back for a few more minutes until she was finally able to push, push, push herself upward. With a few last flaps of her wings, she landed safely on the loft and then abruptly curled up, breathing heavily. Her wings drooped uselessly at her sides like wilted beet greens.

  From atop the dragon’s back, the women surveyed the scene before them. This had apparently been one of the sorcerer’s living quarters, but it was in utter disarray. All across the room lay upturned and broken furniture, and smaller objects like books and goblets were scattered here and there at random.

  And there, in the center of the chamber before them on a large rug of intricate geometric design, existed two unexpected sights.

  One of them was a man of indeterminate age, dark-skinned like Shulamit’s people but with hair in a foreign style, and wearing dark-blue robes, sprawled out on the rug. His face was contorted in agony, and the open-eyed stare over his jowly cheeks proclaimed him dead as dumplings. In his fist he clutched a crystal vial with a gold rim; only a few drops of the blue liquid inside remained in the very bottom corners.

  The other sight was a voluptuous young woman, collapsed on the rug with her eyes closed, her clothing torn open and her limbs sticking out at odd angles. It was Aviva, and she wasn’t moving.

  Chapter 14: Bittersweet Discoveries

  Shulamit scrambled down off the dragon’s back so fast she lost her bearing. She landed hard on one unprepared arm and yowled in pain as her wrist protested the abuse. Rivka deftly dismounted and rushed to her side.

  “I’m okay. I’m okay.” Shulamit gasped, holding her arm close to her body. “Rivka, that’s Aviva.” No more words could she utter in her stu
nned amazement.

  She tried to move toward the fallen girl, but Rivka intercepted her. “Can you move it?”

  Shulamit experimented, and yelped at the result. “Ow-oww!”

  Rivka felt up and down the afflicted limb. “I think you just sprained it. Just... take it easy for now. Or -- wait. Where’s that silk scarf?”

  “Here.” Shulamit took it out of her bag with her good hand, and Rivka quickly wrapped it around the sprain.

  As soon as she was free of Rivka’s protective grasp, she dashed to Aviva’s side, ignoring the gnawing, twisted pain in her own arm. She put her good hand to Aviva’s shoulder and drew back in horror when she felt something cold and hard instead of the warm, pliant flesh she was expecting. Not dead! -- But, no, not dead, for now that she was close enough she could hear that Aviva still breathed.

  Timidly but steadily, she brought her hand to Aviva’s cheek and touched two fingers to her temple. The skin of her face was warm and human. Shulamit’s fingers slid down the side of her cheek down to her jawline.

  A weak sound came from the other girl’s throat, from behind closed lips. Then, finally, her lips parted. “Wa...”

  “She needs water,” shouted Rivka, bounding over from across the room where she’d been studying the corpse of what was most likely the sorcerer. “Here.” She thrust one of the drinking vessels at Shulamit, who held it to Aviva’s mouth.

  Tangerine juice dribbled out onto Aviva’s parched lips. Shulamit held the vessel carefully, and then slid her injured arm around Aviva’s head to cradle her face upward slightly. She forced herself to ignore the pain and just concentrate on making sure most of the juice went into Aviva’s mouth instead of running down her chin.

  Finally, Aviva’s lips began to move, helping the juice along, and then her eyes slowly opened. When she tried to speak it was in an unintelligible mumble, but Shulamit caught the word ‘dream.’ “I’m not a dream,” said the queen. “It’s really me.”

  Aviva couldn’t say anything more, but a radiant look lit her gaunt face.