Sincerely,
The Guild of Spies, Thieves, and Insurance Salesmen, Inc.
If this had been the real world, I’d be pretty angry at this point. Fortunately, I didn’t actually own the donkey. Those thieves sure did write a polite letter, though. That softened the blow considerably. Plus, this solved the problem of figuring out how the donkey could stand up. I couldn’t look at the thing without getting lost trying to explain how it managed to move.
Verix glanced at the note over my shoulder. “Don’t worry. I can make it. The port is only as few blocks away.”
Don’t you think less of me, reader, for not offering to give him a piggyback ride or offering to carry him. Remember, he was only acting hurt, and not even doing a very believable job of it. Besides, the showrunners hadn’t fed me in seven hours, and I was feeling it. If anything, the actor should have carried me.
All pretense of acting grievously wounded completely faded as he sprinted toward the end of the street. I was about to call him on that when the distinct sound of a commotion turned my attention to the opposite end of the street. The invading army was out in full force, and they didn’t look like they wanted an autograph. (Or, if they did, they wanted to end the autograph session by killing me to increase the autograph’s value.) Not wanting to die or sign autographs, I followed my friend to the port.
Right in the Poop Deck
The sound of the stampeding army provided a very effective motivation, and the embarrassment of being outrun by an allegedly wounded man helped even more. We arrived at the port to find the remnants of the Garandian army attempting to board all at once. It was utter chaos as too many men tried to force their way onto hastily fleeing ships. There was little organization, just every man for himself. The lone exception was the far wharf, which was protected by royal guardsmen.
Everyone in the army seemed to know Verix, which helped us get to the far wharf pretty easily. As luck would have it, the first guard we met was Arik.
She sprinted over to check her companion’s wound. “Harry! Thank The One that you found him.”
“It’s not as bad as it looks,” Verix said.
She peeled back his breastplate. “Not that bad? So, I guess that means you’ll only pass out in ten minutes.” She handed him a cloth to hold over the wound.
Verix nodded in thanks. “The enemy army is only a few minutes behind us. Can you spare a sword?”
One of the other soldiers walked forward with a spare sword, but Arik shooed him away and pointed toward the boat. “You and the prophet are going straight on board. Harry needs your protection more than I do, friend. Harry, I am personally assigning him as your guardian, and I want him to look after you from a bed.”
“You can’t order me!” Verix winced in pain and almost fell over, but I was able to catch him and prop him up.
Arik whispered in my ear to give him an order.
“Verix, I order you to protect me from harm,” I said. “The sea is a dangerous place, and I’ll need you to save me from sea monsters, the nefarious Old Gods, and myself. Hey!” I said to Arik. “I don’t need him to protect me from myself. I’ll have you know, I’m quite the capable runner.”
I didn’t mind that they’d changed the gender of Arik, but it wasn’t right for her to make fun of me like that. Just for that, I vowed to make her/him wet herself/himself whenever things got dangerous . . . which would be a lot like me. Aha! I thought. I’d make him/her bad at mounting horses. No, still me. Bad at math? Can’t tell the difference between Coke and Pepsi? I’d think of something later.
“You’re right,” Verix said. “He does need protecting. That was quite brilliant of you, Harry, to illustrate that fact by pretending you disagreed with the last part.”
I gave up and dragged him toward the ship. It really wasn’t worth arguing with them anymore, and it would keep me from finally ending this, anyway. Besides, their arguments were stupid, and I doubted anyone would agree with them anyway.
A couple of guards attempted to stop us from boarding, but after one look at Verix, they let us pass. The captain assured me that we would be on our way in a few minutes and that he was honored to have a prophet on board. I was told that the king had been very relieved to hear of my safety, though he had locked himself in his cabin to pout—or something similar to pouting that was more regal. The captain let me set Verix down on a crate as one of his men went to clear out a cabin for us.
About thirty seconds after we’d reached the deck, the Sculander army arrived and began an effortless slaughter of almost everyone in the dock area. The already panicked Garandian soldiers were solely focused on flight and put up no resistance whatsoever. The only thing slowing the Sculanders down was the sheer numbers in the area; they could only kill so fast.
As soon as the slaughter began, our captain wisely shoved off. The king was too important to risk another minute waiting for a few more soldiers to get to the ship. Soldiers, even elite ones, could be replaced, but a king could not, the captain stated. I was sure a great many people would argue that this particular king would probably be pretty easy to replace, though I would argue that horribly incompetent kings are just as difficult to find as great kings are.
The Sculander army finally reached the royal guards, but Arik rallied the guards to her, and they made a heroic stand. The Sculander advance ground to a halt there, but throughout the rest of the area, the slaughter continued unabated.
“Get them, my friend,” Verix said. “I wish I could be there with you.”
“Me, too,” I said, too caught up in the scene to say anything else.
Arik’s skill and leadership were on full display at the wharf. She was truly awe-inspiring. She and the eight remaining guardsmen were holding off almost the entire Sculander army. The Sculanders couldn’t even dent the defenses of those brave warriors, but fatigue or a lucky shot would eventually whittle the guards down one by one.
After a few minutes, the Sculanders had focused solely on the six remaining guards. All other resistance had ceased, and this local battle was the end of the centuries-long Sculander-Garandian War. It was a very sad thing that a brave and honorable person such as Arik would die in vain, but such is the way of war.
The Sculanders backed off, awed by Arik’s skill. They had apparently given up on a frontal assault. My last sight of the port as we sailed out of view was of Arik and her guard taunting the cowardice of their foes while three great ballistas were dragged into the port.
I felt a great sadness inside me. It’s a terrible thing to see the impending death of one of your favorite creations, even if she wasn’t quite how I had written her. I knew that this scene was only fiction, but it still hurt deeply. Verix wept into his hands, and after a while, I began to weep too. With this war over, what would I write about now? After I’d cleared my eyes, I noticed that all of the sailors on deck appeared to have been crying along with us.
“That was an incredibly moving stand,” I said to the captain.
“It was, at that, but we’re crying because we left our ball back on shore. I just bought it, too. Now, what are we going to do in our free time?”
“We’re going to go down to our cabin now, if that’s all right.”
The captain rubbed back tears. “Uhh, sure. Right this way. You wouldn’t happen to have a ball on you, would you?”
“No. Sorry.”
“Could we borrow your socks? We could wad them up and use those.”
“I’m not wearing any socks.” I had burned them after the tribesmen ordeal.
“Have any bouncy balls in your pocket? We’d even settle for one of those.”
I glared at him. “No, I don’t have any bouncy balls, and I don’t think they exist here.”
“Darn. There has to be something around here that we could use.”
This was ridiculous. A woman had just died, and all this jerk could think about was a ball. “Why don’t you behead one of your men and use that?”
“Brilliant! Cartilious has been comp
letely useless since he signed on. We’ll use his.”
I stared at him, horrified. I’d only been joking. Had this guy been an Aztec in another life?
A man appeared from below and gestured for us to follow.
The captain helped me lift Verix, and we went down the stairs. “Thanks for the idea,” he said as we walked. “You’re really a great guy. No wonder The One picked you to be a prophet. Well, this is your cabin. If you need anything, I’ll do everything I can to get it. I owe you big. The men would have been quite useless without a ball to play with. Oh, and the doctor should be on his way.”
I waved the captain off, and he left with an extra skip in his step.
The cabin was very spacious, as far as cabins go. It had a bed, chest of drawers with several changes of clothing, and even a large porthole with frilly curtains. I was about to check to see where the camera was—so it could catch me in the most favorable light—when the doctor tapped me on the shoulder.
Standing behind me was a person wearing a red wig on top of a bronze helmet. Not that that mattered, as the wig clashed horribly with the blond mustache. The newcomer’s dress looked like it was about to burst on his muscular frame, but I guessed I shouldn’t complain too much, as it did cover his groin.
“Heeello,” the doctor said in a high-pitched voice that couldn’t possibly belong to a real person. “I hear you are in need of assistance. What seems to be the problem?”
I pointed to Verix. “He’s bleeding. Can you go get a real doctor?”
“Good heavens, sir. I’ll have you know that I am a real doctor. What’s wrong? Don’t you think a chick can practice medicine?”
I sighed.
The doctor leaned in. “Psssst . . . Harry, it’s me, Cat. I’m here in disguise, but don’t tell anyone.”
“I . . . won’t.”
“Great! Jackal and Wolf are here, too. Wolf knows a thing or two about fixing boo-boos. He should be in soon.”
Luckily, Jackal and Wolf came in before I could have an aneurism. Wolf’s hands were full of bandages. Neither of them had on a disguise. Jackal gave me a big hug while Wolf went straight to Verix.
“Wow,” I said. “I thought you guys were gone, for sure. How did you get here?”
Cat stepped in between us. “We managed to fight our way through the entire Sculander army.”
Jackal shook her head. “He got turned around, and we ‘fought’ our way out to roughly the same spot where we entered, which I guess was fortunate since he was stabbing Garandians.”
“The resistance was furious, but due to my superb skill, the enemy didn’t know what had hit them.” Cat pretend-slashed the air. I winced from the sound of the back of his dress ripping open.
“Again, because they were on your side and had their backs to you. When the two of us got out of the crowd, Wolf saw you running toward the city, so we followed.”
“I fought my way in like a hero. I killed both of the gate guards single-handedly.”
Jackal shook her head in disgust. “He stabbed them after they asked him a question. We couldn’t find you when we got in.”
“We encountered a deadly Sculander knight when we entered.”
“Your friend, Arik, was there looking for Verix.”
“But after a lengthy, brutal struggle, I defeated him and forced him to tell us where the port was.”
“Arik is a she, and she disarmed you while she was yawning. Fortunately, she overlooked your attack because we’re friends of Harry’s and Wolf told her you suffered a head injury in the battle. She escorted us to the harbor.”
Cat pointed to the wig. “Where I used my cunning art of disguise to sneak us aboard this ship.”
“Arik gave us a pass to get on, and we almost didn’t make it aboard in time because you made us stop while you changed into that ridiculous outfit.”
Cat puckered his lips and held up a tiny flat container. “The trick was the makeup.”
Jackal slapped him and grabbed the container. “Who told you that you could use my makeup?”
I shook my head and looked over at Verix. Wolf had taken the knight’s shirt off and had used all of the bandages to cover his torso. Judging by the rising and falling of Verix’s chest, he was supposed to be acting like he was sleeping and wasn’t supposed to be dead.
“I think he’ll be fine,” Wolf said.
Jackal had Cat down on the deck and was slapping him repeatedly.
“Should we break them up?” I asked.
“Only if it gets too bad. It’s good that she’s standing up for herself, and hopefully this will teach him a lesson. Doubtful on the last part, but with her around, he’ll probably have to start behaving more. They’ll be good for each other. Just don’t tell them that.”
I smiled. “I won’t, but I should be going home soon, anyway.”
“That’s right. Did you get the Phoine from the king yet?”
My eyes widened in surprise. I’d forgotten about that thing! I knew I was going home soon, but I wasn’t sure how they were going to arrange it. “How would one go about seeing the king?”
Wolf looked toward the door. “I don’t know.”
Because this show was anything but subtle, there was immediately a knock at the door.
A Ring, a King, and a Ding-a-Ling
Wolf opened the door and a royal guard walked in. I could tell he was a royal guard by his blindingly shiny armor, and because he was obviously taking me to the king.
The guard saluted. “My apologies for the intrusion, sirs, milady, but the king has requested the presence of the prophet.”
“Oh? What’s it about?” I deadpanned.
“A royal guard’s job is to fetch, not ask why.”
“That’s a great motto,” I said. “You guys should put it on a button or on your shields.”
“Ohhhh. What about a t-shirt?”
“You do not have t-shirts in Garandia. Come on. Are you guys even trying? Why don’t you open your cellphone and Tweet the motto after you post it on Facebook?”
“I don’t know what those are, sir, but we do have shirts in Garandia.”
“No, you said t-shirts. Of course you have shirts, but you don’t have t-shirts. Those wouldn’t exist in this time period—well, the time period this is based on. You heard him say t-shirt, didn’t you, Wolf?”
“I’m not sure. Does it matter?”
“Yes, it does. Is it too much to ask that you don’t bring up period-inappropriate things? No, don’t answer that. I know you’re just going to answer in character and pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about. So, back to the topic at hand. Yes, t-shirts would be greaaaat. You could also do beer cozies and baseball caps.”
He clapped his hands. “Oh, yes. I love those things too! I can’t wait to tell the other guards. You really are a true prophet—only the Almighty could have inspired such brilliance.”
“Yeah, whatever. Just show me to the king, and let’s get this whole thing over with.”
The guard led me down a level while I continued my ranting. I had completely given up on even attempting to play by the rules. If these actors weren’t going to pretend they were in a fantasy world, then neither was I.
He led us to the only door on the lower deck and we entered. This ship appeared to have been built specifically for the king. In the center stood a dais with a throne that was slightly smaller than the one in the palace. The king was sitting there with his head in his hands, staring down at the deck. The servants standing nearby were holding plates of food with flies circling them. Marshal Scritz was standing behind them. Guards flanked all three doorways.
My escort cleared his throat loudly. “Your Majesty, I have brought the prophet, as requested.”
I trudged forward without a care in the world. If they were going to ruin my world, I was going to ruin theirs by roughing up this poor imitation of my King Berin. As he was the perfect symbol for this awful show, it was my duty as an author to abuse him.
The king continued his down
ward stare. “Yes, yes. Thank you, nameless guard. Harry the Prophet, with nickname to be named later, I would like to commend you for your service, though it appears it was all in vain.”
I stopped my steady advance, as it sounded like he was about to say something nice about me. As angry as I was, I wanted to hear that before I attacked him. “Oh?”
“We owe you a reward.”
“It had better be good,” I murmured under my breath.
“As reward for your assistance in rallying the troops, I would like to give you the Phoine of—”
“Lurk!” said a voice from the doorway.
I don’t think I need to tell you who said that. I mean, come on; he said “Lurk.” How many people in this book have said that? Really? You don’t know? Have you been paying attention? Fine, it was the lurker from the circus, but I’m not helping you remember anything else.
The king finally raised his head, paused briefly to examine the awesomeness that is me, then turned toward the newcomer. “Who is this man?”
Marshal Scritz cleared his throat and walked in front of the king. “This man is one of the many agents that I sent to look after this moron, Your Majesty. He may have thwarted Ferelic, Weel, Axin, and Artenarix, but fortunately, there were others. I had the man before you assigned to a fairly popular circus in the north of our island: Jalev’s Circus and Gourmet Pancakes.”
“And what does this have to do with anything?”
The marshal smirked. “While there, he ran into a certain prophet. As for what my agent found, I’ll let him tell you.”
“Lurk, lurk.” The man cleared his throat. “My apologies. It takes me some time to get out of character. While I was at Jalev’s circus, I barely escaped from this bearded fellow and learned quite a bit about him. For instance, did you know that he let Axin and Weel do numerous unspeakable things to him?”
“Of course. Everyone knows about that,” the king said. The rest of the room all gave indications that they also knew that.
“How could everyone possibly know that?” I demanded.
Why I Can't Have Nice Kings Page 22