“We have a proposition for you,” Marco said. “Can you let us out for a minute so we can discuss it?”
“You people are crazy,” the dragon said, and a little flame flickered in under the door. Ellie jumped back. Hotshot went on, “There’s no proposition you losers can make that would interest me. Be quiet and let me count.”
“Hush and listen,” Marabel said. “Can you hear us through the door?”
“Are you kidding? My hearing is excellent. It’s the best. It’s—”
“What we want to talk about,” Marabel said, “is that you seem awfully confined in that room.”
“What do you mean?” He sounded indignant. “This place is huge! It’s enormous! So luxurious! It’s Hotshot’s home, and believe me, Hotshot wouldn’t live in anything but the best.”
“See?” Marco whispered.
Marabel ignored him and said, “You’ve outgrown it.”
“You keep bumping your head,” Ellie pointed out.
“You can’t even straighten your tail,” Marco added.
“Worst of all, you’re locked in,” Marabel said. “How can you stand it?”
“You’re a magical being,” Floriano said. “You deserve better. You shouldn’t be locked up like a… like a stupid donkey. You should have your own wild place to live in, where you can come and go whenever you want, and not take orders from anyone.”
The dragon was silent.
“Hello?” Marabel called tentatively.
“So what are you suggesting?” the dragon asked, his bluster gone, at least for the moment.
They exchanged looks, hardly daring to hope. Marabel took another deep breath.
“Not far from here there’s a big cave. It’s easily twice the size of this room. We spent the night there at the beginning of our journey, and it was very comfortable. It has a nice view, and a stream nearby.”
More silence. Then, “Private entrance?” Hotshot asked.
“Absolutely,” Marabel assured him. “And plenty big enough for you.”
“Noisy neighbors?”
“No neighbors, except a few birds and squirrels.”
“Open-concept floor plan?”
Marabel wasn’t sure what this meant, but it sounded like Hotshot didn’t want the cave to have a lot of small rooms, so she said, “Very open.”
“New appliances?”
What would a dragon want with appliances? “No, there are no appliances. That way you can get all new things and customize it the way you like it. And you can’t beat the price.”
“What are they asking?”
“Nothing. It’s free. It’s been vacant for a while, but it’s in good shape. It would be an improvement.”
“Easy for you to say.” The dragon, for the first time, sounded unsure of himself. “Why should I leave this place? Think of all the packing I’d have to do. Moving is such a pain. I don’t even have any boxes.”
“You have all those treasure chests,” Marco said.
“You can move a few of them at a time,” Ellie added.
Silence. Then Hotshot said, “If I like it—and there’s nothing to say I’ll like it—when can I move in?”
They stifled their triumphant cheers. Their plan had worked! At least, so far. One thing at a time, Marabel reminded herself. She tried to sound casual as she said, “As soon as you agree to let us go and promise not to tell anyone we’ve left, we’ll give you directions.”
“That soon?”
“That soon,” Marco said.
An agonizing silence, and then they heard the most wonderful sound in the world—the scrape of the bolt being pulled back.
Ellie flung herself on the door and tore it open. She fled into the dragon’s chamber and from there into the corridor. Marabel ran after her and barely managed to grab her arm before she reached the stairs. “Only a few more minutes, and we’ll be out of here,” she promised. “Try to stay calm. If they hear you, they’ll toss us back in the dungeon for sure.”
The threat was enough to quiet Ellie, but her eyes were wild. Marabel could tell she wouldn’t be able to stay cooped up any longer.
Floriano had finished giving Hotshot directions to the cave, and the dragon began emptying out treasure chests and filling them with his possessions. Before Hotshot shut the lid, Marabel caught a glimpse of a pair of nail clippers as long as her wooden sword; a bottle marked SCALE POLISH, LEMON SCENT; several fire extinguishers; some enormous, comfy-looking bedroom slippers with holes cut out at the ends for his claws; and a painting of a red dragon with the word Mother written on the frame in fancy script.
“Run along now,” he said over his shoulder as he opened a second chest. “Good luck and all that. Drop by the cave anytime.”
Ellie tugged on Marabel’s arm. “Let’s go,” she said between her teeth.
Marabel cracked the door and looked both ways. Seeing no one, she motioned at the others to follow her, and they eased out into the corridor and headed for the stairs.
The basement was deserted, except for the occasional bug. The air was thick with damp.
Marabel saw one of the red WAY OUT signs and hurried toward it, going past the gift shop they’d seen advertised. It was closed.
A sign directed them to a side door leading out of the castle. They looked at one another, swallowed nervously, and pushed it open. Late-afternoon sunlight poured in on them.
A few people were around—gardeners, servants polishing the windows, and a bored-looking sentry—but nobody was looking for them… yet. “Act casual,” Marabel said under her breath, although her heart was pounding hard. She wanted to break into a run but forced herself to stroll casually toward the road.
“Just a few more steps!” Marabel said to encourage her companions. Then, just as they were on the brink of freedom, a trumpet sounded behind them, and a deep voice called from high up in a castle tower, “The prisoners! They’re escaping! To arms, to arms!”
Marabel, Marco, Ellie, and Floriano exchanged horrified glances and fled across the green lawn toward the forest. “Hurry! Hurry!” cried Floriano. He could have easily outpaced the soldiers, but he hung back.
Marabel cried, “Run, Floriano! Run home and get help!” But the unicorn shouted, “I’m not leaving you humans to face them alone!”
Another trumpet blast sounded. Feet pounded on the road, making the air rumble like thunder.
And then they were surrounded. Floriano lowered his head and shook his horn at the soldiers.
A familiar-looking goblin stepped out of the crowd. Marabel narrowed her eyes and exclaimed, “You’re the one who threw me into the dungeon!”
He bowed. “General Bob Goblin at your service, ma’am.”
She ignored the mockery in his overly polite tone. “By what right do you stop us?” she demanded.
“Just following orders, ma’am.” He sounded amused. “Her Majesty said not to let you out until she gave the command. I’ve heard no such command, so it’s back to the dungeon with you, and this time we’ll make sure you don’t make a break for it.”
“And what if we refuse to go back?”
“We’ll have to drag you, then.”
“You’re awfully brave!” Ellie broke in. “There must be—what? Twenty of you? All with swords and shields and things. And there are just four of us, and we don’t have any weapons, not unless you count Floriano’s horn. You wouldn’t be so brave if Marabel’s father was here with his soldiers!”
“Soldiers of Magikos,” the goblin general scoffed. “I don’t think we’d have much trouble with them.” He broke into a grin. “You do have a weapon, though.”
“We have nothing,” Marco said. “Not even a butter knife.”
The general pointed to the wooden sword at Marabel’s waist. All the soldiers burst out laughing.
“Tell you what,” the general said, still with a sneer that made Marabel clench her fists and her teeth, “you fight me with your sword, and I’ll fight you with mine. If you win, you can all go free. If I win, it’s
back to the dungeon with you.”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Floriano said to the goblin. “Marabel has only a wooden practice sword, and yours is made of metal!”
“It’s all right, Floriano,” Marabel said. “Better to die trying than to go back and be turned into a frog.”
Marco turned to the goblin general. “We ac—”
“Wait!” Marabel said, remembering the bridge troll. “Just wait. We have to define terms.”
“No terms,” the goblin said. “Standard rules. Take it or leave it.” He unsheathed his sword, a heavy-looking, businesslike weapon with a large grip.
Marabel pulled the battered wooden sword out of her belt and extended it, hilt-first, to her brother. He shook his head and put his hands behind his back.
“But, Marco—” She stopped, bewildered. What was he doing?
“You do it, Mara. You have to fight with him. You’re a much better fencer than I am.”
“No, I’m not! Lucius always said you were better than me.”
“Lucius always said you were better than me.”
A little laugh escaped her, even through her terror. “He must have told both of us the same thing to make us practice harder!”
Marco laughed, too, and for a moment they felt as though they were back at home, sharing a joke that no one else understood.
Then Marabel got serious again. “But, Marco, you’re the Chosen One! The Book says, ‘When the Chosen One recognizes himself, he shall prevail.’ Doesn’t that mean that you’re supposed to do the fighting?”
Marco said, “What does that mean about recognizing yourself? I don’t think I’ve done any recognizing.”
“Quit stalling!” called the goblin. “What, too afraid to fight?”
Marabel ignored him. She turned the sword around and held it by the hilt again, thinking of all those hours she had spent in the tower room, with Lucius teaching her the proper grip, the correct stance, the attack and the defense, the rules of chivalric combat, the basics of strategy.
She would hate for her adventure to end here in defeat, after all they had gone through. She remembered how she and Ellie had braved the tunnel, how she had fought off the man-wolf, outwitted the bridge troll, and escaped from the giants. She remembered how she had figured out that the false Floriano was a faery trying to lure them into the faery realm, and how her plan had convinced Hotshot to release them. Her heart glowed with pride, and her right arm warmed and tingled.
She realized that everyone had stopped talking. They were all staring at her, not only Marco, Ellie, and Floriano, but the goblin soldiers as well, some with mouths hanging open. She looked around. “What?” she asked, confused.
“Marabel.” Marco’s voice was hoarse. He cleared his throat. “Marabel—look at the sword.”
The general’s sword? No, she followed her brother’s gaze to the wooden sword in her hand.
Only, it wasn’t a wooden sword.
It was gleaming steel, and it shone like a flame. Had something enchanted it?
She had no time to wonder. She didn’t know how, but she could tell that the new sense of pride and confidence that glowed in her heart had flowed into the gleaming blade.
Marabel turned to face the goblin general and took a fighter’s stance. It was her turn to sneer. “Still want to fight me, Bobby?”
For his answer, the goblin general lifted his own sword.
They circled, each looking for a weakness. Marabel noted that one of the goblin’s knees was stiff, and calculated how that would hamper him. She noted out of the corner of her eye where gaps appeared in his leather armor as he moved. She remembered that the goblins wore no shoes. If she could do something to make him stub his bare toe, that might throw him off.
“Ha!” the general thrust his sword at her. She easily hopped out of the way, being careful to go in the direction of his stiff knee so he’d be slow to follow her. She gave an experimental thrust back to gauge the speed of his reaction.
Marabel realized, to her deep astonishment, that despite their desperate situation, she was enjoying herself. This was what Lucius had trained her for—never knowing that he was preparing her to fight a goblin soldier one day, all the way in the Desolate Barrens, but preparing her just the same.
This was what she was meant to do.
Marabel let herself fall into range of the goblin’s sword, and then twirled out of his reach again. He was breathing hard. He must be hot in the evening sun, wearing all that leather. Meanwhile, she had just been eating and playing Impcraft all afternoon, and her new outfit was light and cool. If she could wear him out…
And then she made a mistake. She let him get too close, and his sword sliced her upper arm.
“Marabel, stop!” Marco cried. “Surrender!”
She ignored him. The cut wasn’t deep enough that she’d lose a dangerous amount of blood. It hurt less than many injuries Lucius had inflicted on her, but it was enough to make her mad. She lunged at the goblin, and he swung his shield in front of his body, just as she’d known he would—just as Lucius had done in the tower on her birthday. She dodged to her opponent’s other side and slammed the flat of her sword against the backs of his knees.
Exactly like Lucius on that day that seemed so long ago, Bob Goblin’s feet flew up, and he thudded onto his back. Before he could even try to rise, she had leaped on him. She straddled him and held the point of her sword to his throat.
The goblin soldiers murmured and moved closer.
“Back!” she cried. “Back, or else I’ll…” She didn’t know what she was going to say after that and was relieved when they retreated a step.
“Are you a goblin of your word?” she asked the general. He nodded slightly, his wide-open eyes fixed on the bright blade. “You said that if I won, we would all go free. Did you mean that?”
“I did,” he croaked. “You can all go. We won’t try to stop you.”
“By rights, I could kill you,” she said. She poked his neck a little harder with the tip of the sword—not enough to pierce the skin, but enough to scare him.
He closed his eyes as though preparing for death.
Marabel savored her victory a moment longer. Then she stood and slid her sword back into her belt, watching with surprise as it turned back to battered wood.
Marco came and put his arm around her shoulder, and only then did she realize that she was shaking.
Two goblins helped their general to his feet. He, too, was shaking. One of his men handed him his sword. He knelt and extended it hilt-first to Marabel, the traditional act of the vanquished to the victor. She took it and held it uncertainly. Lucius had never taught her what to do with a conquered enemy’s weapon.
The goblin said solemnly, “Since you spared my life, I will also give you a gift.”
From the pouch at his waist, the goblin pulled out a bracelet. It was black and very plain. It wasn’t made of silver or gold, and it bore no gems. An odd sort of gift for sparing his life, Marabel thought.
Marabel held out her wrist and the goblin strapped it on. “If you are ever in need of help, Princess Marabel, you may use this to call me, and wherever I am, I’ll come.”
“Oh!” Ellie said. “I’ve heard of these things. You turn them around three times or hold them under the full moon or something, right?”
“Nothing that complicated. Watch.” He cleared his throat. “Hey, Scari,” he said into a similar bracelet on his own arm.
“Hey yourself,” came a woman’s voice.
“Call Marabel.”
The bracelet on Marabel’s wrist chimed and vibrated, and she jumped. “What was that?”
“That was Scari,” he said. “She’s an imp—or rather, she’s one of the imps—who lives in your bracelet. They’re all named Scari. Go ahead, answer her.”
Cautiously, Marabel raised the bracelet to her wrist and said into it, “Hello?”
The same woman’s voice answered her. “Call from Bob G.”
“What am I supposed to do?” M
arabel asked, and Bob Goblin showed her how to answer the call and then how to make one herself. Then he beckoned over one of his medics, who bandaged the cut on her arm.
The general saluted her. “Remember,” he said, “if you find yourself in danger, call me and I’ll come as fast as I can.”
“Thank you,” Marabel said. “Oh, and, General?”
“Yes?”
“One more thing. Could you make sure that none of the other soldiers follow us until we’re well away?”
“Other soldiers?” he asked. “Miss, there are no other soldiers on duty at the castle. The rest are all preparing to leave for Magikos.”
“What?” Marabel cried. “They’re leaving? All of them? When? Why?”
“As soon as they can,” the general answered. “We’re under threat. A messenger arrived and told us that the Magikian king was going to attack us if Her Majesty didn’t return the prince. You three should stay here until it’s all over. It looks like it will be dangerous.”
The goblin general saluted again, and then he and his soldiers marched across the lawn and into the castle.
Marabel felt numb as she watched them go. So her father’s messenger had arrived while they were in the dungeon. No wonder they hadn’t encountered any guards during their escape, and the regular afternoon check on the dungeon hadn’t been made. No soldiers were left to guard the castle, much less look in on the prisoners.
Yes, they were free. Yes, Marco was out of the dungeon. But they were in enemy territory far, far from home, and Magikos was in danger. Mab was preparing to attack Magikos with her army of Evils, and Marabel and her companions wouldn’t be able to stop her.
They had no food, they were exhausted from their long journey, and worst of all, the road home was fraught with danger.
The others looked at her expectantly.
She wouldn’t fail. She couldn’t fail. She would try to get home and help. If something went wrong, at least she’d know she’d done her best.
Marabel handed Marco the goblin’s sword, and he slid it into his belt. “Let’s get going,” she said.
Marabel and the Book of Fate Page 14