“How much?” Demog asked.
“One buckle should suffice,” Seeboth said.
With an obedient bow, Demog undid the first brass buckle on his chest. A mass of shadowy tentacles surged from the hollow space within him and stabbed into the eyes of each no-longer-laughing pirate.
What happened next would most likely drive you mad with fear should I relay it to you in its entirety. Because I value your readership, and because I assume you desire to retain your sanity until the end of this story, I will spare you the grisly details and recount only the most salient points.
Demog scared the pirates.
To put a finer point on it, he scared the pirate ship out of them.
A Terror has the unique ability to become its victim’s greatest fear and does so to feed on all the tasty bodily humours secreted and seasoned by those fears.
The clothing worn by a Terror — that signature black leather armor with its four brass buckles — is not actually armor at all. Rather, it is a stylish, form-fitting prison designed to contain what writhes within a Terror’s chest cavity. The black, oily essence of Fear Incarnate forever seethes within the cage of a Terror’s ribs, trapped behind the bars of a Terror’s bones. It feeds on the fear of its victims, it is altogether freaky, and it is always and forever hungry.
As a result, there is nothing more horrifying in all the Netherhells than a Terror suffering from the munchies.
Fear Incarnate finally coiled back into Demog’s chest. Satisfied with his snack, the Demon licked his lips and buckled up.
The pirates, on the other hand, fled in blind panic, racing away with nightmare visions in their eyes and shouts of, “Arr, it’s Whitethorne!” or “Arr, run away!” or “Arr, don’t let him stabify me!”
The reason they said such things was because Sir Whitethorne and his Knights of the Oblong Shield were the pirates’ greatest fear, and small wonder — Whitethorne had nearly hunted the pirates, and every other villain, to extinction. Even smaller wonder then that the villains killed him.
Without Sir Whitethorne around to maintain peace, bloodthirsty pirates like Captain Head ran amok.
Evil wizards like Seeboth grew mighty.
Wicked rulers like King Sterling literally devoured neighboring kingdoms.
And people everywhere began using the word “literally” when what they literally meant was “figuratively”.
The world was literally coming to an end.
The pirates fled in blind panic, racing past Captain Head as he and his considerable bulk finally lumbered up to the Shadowship.
“What have ye done to me men?!”
He wheezed like an overweight steam whistle.
“Taught them respect,” said Seeboth.
“They’ll be fine,” Demog added, pulling his chest strap tight. “I only gave them one buckle — just a glimpse of their greatest fear. Had I released any more of my Essence — say, two or three buckles — they would be dead now.”
Demog sprang aboard the ship and handed the Judgment Blade to his master. In exchange, Seeboth passed the princess to the Demon.
“What about… four buckles?” she asked, eying the Demon’s chest warily.
Demog smiled, the first time the princess had seen him do so. “You do not want to know,” he said as he dragged her below.
Once the shower of debris had stopped showering, Seeboth gestured. The shadowy wings of the Dawnslayer unfurled and the Shadowship took flight.
“Hey, wait! What about me!”
Captain Head gestured at the destruction that surrounded him. It had buried half his ships. “Look at me lair! How am I supposed to blast me way out o’ this mess?!”
“Use your head,” Seeboth said.
The wizard’s mocking laughter echoed across the grotto as the Shadowship soared up and away through a vast opening where once had been the cavern’s ceiling.
Captain Head simmered until the iron skin of the cannonball perched atop his shoulders burned red hot with rage.
An unfortunate fly landed upon his head and instantly sizzled into ash — the first victim of his fury.
“Me ships…” he fumed.
“Me lair…” he seethed.
“Bravado!” Scraping one of the wanted posters from the wall, he crushed Jack’s face in his fist. “There’s nowhere you can hide from me now! Heads’ll roll for this — yer head will roll! Round up all the black powder ye can, me boyos!”
Raising his hands to the sky, he bellowed across the grotto, “The time has come to unleash me Bloody Vengeance!”
23
A KNIGHT OF THE OBLONG SHIELD
Prince Paul and company watched helplessly as the Shadowship streaked high above the dog-paddling Sphinx to disappear in the clouds.
“It can fly? How are we supposed to rescue Luscious now?” asked Paul.
“Could be a problem all right,” said Jack.
“It’s your fault she still needs to be rescued,” Laura pointed out.
“Hey, we didn’t stand a chance back there,” Paul said defensively.
“You didn’t even try!” Laura shot back. “I tried to rescue her more than you did!”
“Well… it’s your fault she was kidnapped in the first place,” Paul reminded her.
“Don’t put this on me!” Laura said. “It’s your job to overcome the odds! That’s what Prince Charmings do! But instead, I had to save your life — again!”
“Fine!” Paul said. “If you’re so much better at this, what do we do now?”
Laura stared at him, brows furrowed, mind racing, until a triumphant smile spread across her face. She pulled a small leather strap from her pocket and shoved it into Paul’s hands.
“What’s this?” he asked.
“You cut it off that thing when you were fighting,” she said.
“So?”
Laura rolled her head around her shoulders in exasperation. “Do I need to spell everything out for you?! That thing was about as magic as magic gets. Flitterlings track magic. So go find some Flitterlings!”
Vindicated, she stormed off to the bow.
Jack took the strap and examined it. “You know, that’s actually a pretty good idea.”
Paul felt like less of a Prince Charming than ever. “She’s right — I need rescuing more than the princess does. Gods, what am I even doing here?!”
“Unless that’s a trick question, I’d say you’re here to save the emperor’s daughter,” Jack said, tossing the strap back to him.
“Be honest, Jack,” Paul said. “There’s no way I can rescue her, is there?”
“Maybe. Maybe not. But you have to try.”
“I did. I did try. And we almost died. All of us. Who am I kidding? This is crazy. It’s over, Jack. It’s just… over. Let’s go home.”
Jack ignored him and pulled the ornate lever back into the off position. In response, the Sphinx’s jaws clamped shut over the paddle wheel and the paws folded themselves back along the sides of the ship. The Sargasso Sphinx once again looked almost like a normal ship.
“Would you believe that once upon a time I was a Knight of the Oblong Shield?” Jack asked.
“You?” Paul did not even attempt to hide his shock.
“Yes, me. Why does everyone always say that?” Jack looked out across the sea and his eyes filled with distant memories. “I was good. Yeah, I was a guardian of peace and justice, all that stuff. Then they got him.” He bowed his head for a moment before continuing. “Come here, I want to show you something.”
He led Paul down into his cabin where all the parchment clippings about the death of Sir Whitethorne plastered the walls.
“Think,” Jack said. “Who stood to gain the most from Whitethorne’s death? It was Captain Head and the pirates. Whitethorne was just about to destroy them, so they destroyed him first. Makes perfect sense! But it’s even bigger than that—”
“Jack, what does this have to do with rescuing Luscious?” Paul asked.
Jack ignored him and pointed to
a yellowing piece of parchment on which someone had drawn a primitive charcoal sketch. In coarse strokes, it appeared to depict the image of what might have been an archer standing on a distant slope. Beside the possible archer was an even hazier shape that might have been another man, but could just as easily have been a bush.
“Why are you showing me this?” Paul asked.
“Because there was someone else involved, too,” Jack concluded. He pointed at the bush-man. “See?”
“That’s just a drawing… of a bush.”
Jack gave a large, knowing nod. “Exactly. I’m telling you, this cover-up goes all the way to the top!”
Paul took a little step back toward the steps. “You… you sound a little crazy, Jack.”
“Yeah,” Jack said, and Paul could hear the sadness in his voice. “Yeah, the emperor said the same thing right before he stripped me of my knighthood and called me a paranoid disgrace. I had to prove he was wrong — that everyone was wrong — which is why I stole a treasure chest from the pirates—”
“What?” Paul cried. “You did what?!”
“—bought this ship, and started looking for evidence. I figure I must be onto something — why else would the pirates want me so dead?”
“Uh… maybe because you stole their treasure?” Paul suggested.
Jack stopped talking. He stared at Paul and didn’t blink, not once. As the silence dragged on, Paul wondered how anyone could go so long without blinking. Whether it was the silence or the lack of blinks that got to him, Paul could finally bear no more and said, “So why should I believe you?”
“Why?”
Mercifully, Jack blinked at last.
Paul sighed a sigh of relief he hadn’t known he’d been holding in.
Reaching under his tunic, Jack pulled out something suspended from a chain around his neck — an arrowhead shaped like a lightning bolt.
“Why should you believe me?” Jack repeated. “Because I know. I was there. I was supposed to be guarding him. I saw him die. I saw this kill him.”
Paul felt as if that arrow had just pierced his own heart. “You were… when he died… you were actually with him? With Sir Whitethorne? But… if… then if you know all that, if you know the pirates killed Sir Whitethorne, just testify against them and end it. He deserves justice!”
Jack shook his head. “I know he does. I know, but I can’t. I never found a shred of evidence to actually link the pirates to that arrow. And without evidence, all I can do is hide and hope they don’t shut my blowhole for good.”
“So you’re just giving up?” Paul asked.
Jack looked him right in the eyes. “You are.”
That stopped Paul. “I… that’s different. I’m cursed.”
“We’re all cursed, one way or another.”
“No,” Paul persisted. “You don’t understand. I’m really cursed. A witch—”
Jack waved him off. “Call it whatever you want, but it’s better to be cursed than to wind up like me. Look.” He gestured at the ship around them. “I’m a joke. I know that. When the pirates destroyed the chivalry of Whitethorne, they took my life with it. But you… it’s not too late to be a hero. Stand up to what scares you. Stand up no matter what.”
Paul returned Jack’s gaze. For the first time, he didn’t feel the need to look away from someone. “You know… you’re not quite as crazy as you seem.”
“Hey, thanks. I appreciate that.”
Paul sighed. “Okay, fine. Let’s go find some Flitterlings.”
As the two men turned to ascend the stairs, Laura ducked from the hatch before either of them noticed she had been there.
24
LIMBO
Sandwiched between all the myriad Netherhells, there existed an inter-dimensional connective tissue known as Limbo. Limbo is/was an indeterminate space where progress is/was a meaningless concept just as it is/was/would be in a rather unpleasant place known as the DMV.
Worrt the Demon hovered amid clouds of luminous aether while he turned his map in different directions, trying to make sense of it. To be fair, his confusion wasn’t the map’s fault. Little made sense in that place, for Limbo was a realm without form, function, or recognizable landmarks.
It was a place people went when they didn’t know where else to go.
It was a place people went when they knew where to go but lacked the wherewithal to get there.
It was a place people went when they didn’t care where they had to go.
It was a place people went when they were too stubborn or lazy to be bothered with anything else.
It was a place of avoiding.
A place of uncertainty.
It was a place of rambling—
You get the idea.
One tended to lose quite a bit of time in Limbo while seeking a sign to move on.
Or a signpost.
Worrt could find neither, so he finally broke down and asked for directions. Unfortunately, the Demon did not realize those who dwell in Limbo have no idea how to leave but are more than happy to give advice.
“Ya done took a wrong turn back around Netherhell 146,” said the ethereal image of an old man, his foggy finger stabbing at Worrt’s map. “Boy, you come almost infinity outta yer way—”
The ghostly silhouette of an old woman cut off the old man, saying, “You need to hop two astral planes over, but if you reach oblivion, you’ve gone too far—”
“Not that way,” groused the old man ghost. “You’ll just confuse the boy—”
“Hush,” said the old woman ghost.
And this went on and on and on.
Worrt simmered and seethed. He was about to do something drastic.
But then he began to feel it might be more prudent to wait a bit before taking any unnecessary action. He didn’t have any place he needed to be. No sense rushing into anything…
25
THE SHADOWKEEP
The Shadowship soared through a bank of clouds the way a throwing knife soars through a solar plexus.
Seeboth was in a hurry to get home. The princess’ reaction upon learning about his plans for her had left him somewhat shaken for reasons he didn’t fully comprehend. He hoped relocating Princess Luscious from her cell on the Shadowship to a slightly larger cell in his home would put her in a better frame of mind and a much happier mood.
He desperately wanted to see Smile Number 33 again.
They had traveled far to the south, and as the ship sliced through yet another ridge of clouds, their destination finally hove into view: a small, uncharted, out-of-the-way island. Its key points of interest included a foul lagoon framed by an unpleasant arc of beach, one ruined outhouse, a single large rock with a cave under it, and one massive tower that stood one hundred stories tall.
The island had no name.
The tower was called the Shadowkeep.
A featureless black cylinder, the Shadowkeep glistened as if perpetually wet, a unique characteristic of the gorgeous waterblack granite from which it had been constructed. The tower stood upon the island’s single outcropping of rock, and the cave in the base of the rock appeared to be its only entrance, for no other openings, neither windows nor doors, marred the vertical surface of the tower.
The flat expanse of the Shadowkeep’s roof would have provided a stunning view of the surrounding area had there been anything stunning to see, but unfortunately the tower stood in the midst of a great deal of nothing and overlooked a whole lot of disappointment. A ladder descended through a hole in the middle of the roof, providing the only access into and out of the tower from above.
A flight of stairs projected from the edge of the roof like an angled bridge, extending outward and upward for twenty yards to end at a circular platform. The entire configuration looked very much as if the tower were extending an arm toward heaven, palm open and waiting for a gift. Empty space yawned beneath the platform, a platform which was held in position by nothing more than the freestanding staircase connecting it to the tower. Normally,
this platform was used for docking the Shadowship — which was precisely what the Dawnslayer was doing at that moment — but the platform now served a secondary purpose.
A stone altar had been positioned there, and long, heavy chains draped it like Gothic streamers.
Princess Luscious said not a word as Seeboth escorted her down the gangplank onto the platform. He tried to break the ice forming between them by pointing out the features of the platform.
“You see, my dear?” he said. “I built that altar just to sacrifice you.”
“Really,” Princess Luscious said. She stopped and turned to face him. “Well, I think this might best describe my sentiments.”
She spat in his face.
Demog’s hand appeared from nowhere, snapping like a cobra, and snatched the gob of spittle from the air.
“Thank you, Demog,” Seeboth said. Then, barely containing himself, he bellowed, “Jeremy!”
Jeremy the Zombie shuffled up the stairs to Seeboth, but when he noticed Seeboth’s mood, he began to speed-shuffle.
“Urrr,” he said.
“Get her out of my sight!” the dark wizard commanded. He shoved Princess Luscious toward Jeremy. The Zombie butler caught her, far more gently than one would expect from a Zombie.
“This way, my lady—”
“Jeremy! No more talking! I told you, you’re a Zombie now! You will act like one!”
“Yes, my lord,” Jeremy said wearily. “I mean, urrr…”
Demog wiped his hand on Jeremy’s shoulder as the Zombie shambled past with Princess Luscious in tow. After all she had experienced lately, being escorted by a Zombie into a dungeon did not even faze her. As soon as the two of them descended into the tower, Seeboth broke down.
“I don’t understand what she wants!” he cried. “This altar is exquisite — look at all the chains! She should be thrilled! Demog, what am I doing wrong?!”
“Does it matter, my lord?” The Demon really couldn’t have cared less about the whole matter. “She’s just a sacrifice, after all.”
Happily Ever Awkward Page 11