Blue in the Face

by Gerry Swallow

  Elspeth shifted her attention back to the board. She paused for the longest minute since the dawn of time. She gnawed on her lower lip until the taste of blood told her to stop. Then, quite inexplicably, she removed her hand from the rook and instead took hold of her queen bishop and captured white’s queen rook. Not only had she failed to take advantage of Farrah’s mistake, Elspeth had completely turned the tide of the game—and not in her own favor. Three quick moves later, Farrah moved her spared queen c4, creating a situation in which either player would lose were it her turn. And it was Elspeth’s turn. In chess terms it is known as a trebuchet, named for a medieval device used in siege warfare and similar to a catapult.

  “Yes,” Elspeth whispered. “Of course. That’s it.” Without hesitation, she made her move.

  Farrah countered and, with not a trace of pride or triumph, flatly declared, “Checkmate.”

  As Dumpty raised Farrah’s right hand, hats were tossed into the air and the crowd erupted in wild cheering, singing, and applause.

  “That’s it then,” said Elspeth, offering her hand to her opponent. “Well played.”

  “Well played indeed,” said Farrah. “You did that on purpose.”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Elspeth.

  “You’re far too good a player to have made a mistake like that. You threw the game.”

  Elspeth made no further attempt to deny the accusation. She just looked at Farrah and smiled. “I’m sorry I didn’t congratulate you,” she said.

  “I deserve no congratulations for that,” said Farrah.

  “I was referring to the wedding. I want you to know that I’m very happy for you both.”

  “Oh. Thank you,” said Farrah. This seemed to have caught her off guard, to the point that she stammered for a bit before saying, “Your blessing means a lot to me. You know, I’ll be needing a maid of honor.”

  Elspeth felt her throat tighten. “And you would ask me?”

  “I know I’ve said some pretty horrible things to you,” said Farrah.

  “It’s okay,” said Elspeth. “They were all true.”

  “They may have been at the time. Anyway, I would be honored if you’d stand with me. It won’t be anything fancy. No gown, no ring, no cake. Only the things that matter.”

  “I would be happy to,” said Elspeth. Then she squinted and moved closer. Could it be? It certainly seemed that way. “Your hair. It’s . . . gotten longer.”

  Unconvinced, Farrah brought her fingers to the bristly sprockets and felt them for length. “You’re right. It’s growing. My hair is growing back.”

  “Now I feel slightly less guilty for chopping it off,” said Elspeth just as

  Winkie showed up and wrapped his fiancé in a victory hug.

  “Excellent game,” said Winkie, who knew not the first thing about chess. “I’m quite proud of you.”

  “Don’t be,” said Farrah, while staring directly at Elspeth. “I had nothing to do with it.”

  “You’re just being modest, my dear,” said Winkie. “The important thing is that we still have our commander in chief, which means we still have a chance of defeating Krool.”

  “A trebuchet,” said Elspeth.

  “A what?” said Winkie.

  “I’ve always been quite good at throwing things,” said Elspeth. “It’s one of my greatest talents, and I’ve always found it to be very effective. A trebuchet is like a catapult. Can we build one?”

  Winkie folded his arms and scrunched up his forehead. “May I ask what you plan to do with it?”

  “Why, attack the castle, of course,” said Elspeth.

  “You mean my castle? You . . . want to throw rocks at my castle?”

  “Unless you’d rather wait until it falls apart on its own.”

  “All right then,” said Winkie. “A trebuchet you shall have. But building it is one thing. We’d still have to figure out a way to get it across Torcano Alley and up the cliffs.”

  “Yes, but let’s worry about that when the time comes,” said Elspeth, whose list of things to worry about was getting longer by the day.

  Eeny, meeny, miny, moe,

  Catch an ogre by the toe,

  When he hollers, make him pay

  For his awful, wicked ways.

  Chapter 24

  The next morning, Elspeth woke at dawn to the sound of whippoorwills calling an end to a long night. Again she’d slept well, and the resulting energy surged through her core. She donned the crimson-and-gray uniform and buckled up the shoes that somehow fit perfectly despite the fact that they, like the uniform, had been made years before. As a military leader, she felt it her duty to get herself into the same kind of shape she would expect of her troops. The girl on page thirty-five of the Book was lean and muscular, and Elspeth was determined to mold herself to that ideal.

  Stepping out of her tent, she saw no sign of life. She was the first one up, it appeared. “Stretching,” she thought. “Yes, I must do some stretching first.”

  She bent forward with the aim of touching her toes and settled on reaching halfway down her shins. “Okay,” she thought. “Enough stretching.”

  She set off down the main path, beginning with a brisk walk and soon breaking into a jog. A familiar, sharp ache soon attacked her midsection, but this time she refused to let it stop her. She pushed on until the pain in her legs took her mind completely off her gut. Only when a large blister began to form on the ball of her right foot while on the way back to the camp did she finally give in. She pulled up, leaning forward, her hands upon her knees, her face red and pounding.

  As her heavy panting slowly eased back into normal breathing, she heard a strange whirring and slapping noise coming from up ahead. Could it be the mating call of the Great Spiny Gleekin or some type of warning issued by the Germese Stranglerat?

  Slowly, Elspeth inched forward toward the source, breathing slowly through her mouth. A twig crackled beneath her feet. She stopped abruptly, but the sound up ahead continued. She crept closer toward a small tree. She reached out and took hold of a branch. With one last deep breath, she pulled it aside and saw, standing in a clearing, Bo-Peep. Though to say she was standing would not be entirely accurate. She was standing, twirling, and lunging, all while thrusting, spinning, and swinging her shepherd’s pole. Her actions looked to be part ballet, part warfare.

  The beauty, grace, and violence of the movements kept Elspeth entranced for a solid ten minutes until finally Bo-Peep finished the routine and paused to rest.

  “Wow,” said Elspeth.

  Bo-Peep quickly resumed an aggressive stance and pointed the staff in Elspeth’s direction. “Oh,” she said and lowered the weapon. “Sorry. You startled me.”

  “What is that?” asked Elspeth. “What you were doing?”

  “It’s Shaolin stick fighting,” Bo-Peep said shyly. She gave a quick, casual twirl of the staff. “I took it up after my sheep were stolen. It’s very good for mind, body, and spirit.”

  “Do you think you could teach the others?”

  “Teach them?”

  “Stick fighting,” said Elspeth. “I think it may be just the thing we need.”

  “I don’t know,” said Bo-Peep. “If they’d be willing to learn, I’d be willing to try.”

  In the days to follow, Simple Simon was relieved of his weapon-making duties, and everyone worked together to turn two hundred tree branches into two hundred smooth, polished tools of battle that could both bludgeon the enemy and, at the same time, yell at him. As the talkative sticks were being issued to all those with opposable thumbs, Gene could not help himself. “Well, look at this,” he gloated. “Once again, it’s sticks to the rescue. Makes you want to treat us with a little more respect, now doesn’t it?”

  Elspeth made her best effort not to hurl Gene into the woods while handing the troops over to Bo-Peep. “Okay, listen up,” barked Elspeth. “Today we begin learning the ancient art of Shaolin stick fighting. During this time you are to give Bo-Peep your undivi
ded attention. Is that understood?”

  She was met with a “yes, ma’am,” spoken in concert and with a surprising level of enthusiasm for a group that had always been so down in the mouth. Perhaps these wet matches were finally beginning to spark. “They’re all yours,” Elspeth said to Bo-Peep. “And don’t be too nice to them.”

  “Sure,” said Bo-Peep. As she took the troops through the very basics of a highly complicated discipline, Elspeth ordered that the chessboard be delivered to her tent, where she would spend the next several hours playing against herself. By doing so she hoped to formulate a strategy by which her underdog forces might have a chance against an army that Georgie had described as well trained and armed to the teeth.

  So intense was Elspeth’s concentration on the board that it took Dumpty several tries to get her attention. “Excuse me,” he repeated for the third time. “May I come in?”

  “Huh? Oh. Yes,” said Elspeth. “Sorry.”

  “No worries,” said Dumpty as he pushed his way past the tent flap. In his right hand was a plate and on it a hot cross bun that had long ago gone cold, and a dollop of what looked like mashed potatoes. “I thought you’d like some lunch.”

  “Oh. Thanks,” said Elspeth. “I’m starving.” She took the plate in hand and immediately went for the bun, using her molars to break through its staleness.

  With a middle-aged groan, Dumpty bent his spindly legs and took a seat on the floor next to Elspeth. “So tell me, how are you holding up?”

  “I’m okay,” said Elspeth. “A little tired, I guess.”

  “I must say you’re doing a remarkable job of dealing with all the pressure,” said Dumpty. “It’s a lot to be expected of you, I know.”

  “I just want to get it over with as quickly as possible.”

  “Speaking of which, how goes the battle? Or should I say the planning of such?”

  “I’m glad you asked,” said Elspeth. The fatigue left her instantly, and a look of excitement washed across her face as she slid the chessboard aside and picked up a small stick. “I believe I may have figured it out. I’m thinking of a two-pronged attack, which is why I plan to divide the troops into two separate divisions, A Company and B Company. Naturally, I will take charge of A Company. I’ve decided to place Bo-Peep in charge of B Company.”

  “Excellent choice,” said Dumpty.

  Elspeth drew a crude diagram of the castle in the dirt with the stick. Not Gene. As Elspeth’s right-hand man, that would be beneath him. It was another stick, whose name is not important.

  “Now I noticed there are archers positioned here.” She tapped the stick on the east wall of the castle.

  “One good shot at the wall with the trebuchet should knock them out of position just long enough to get A Company from the trees to the castle gate.” She drew a few cloud-like shapes meant to be treetops and scraped out a line from there to the castle. “Once inside, we will seal off the barracks and the stables. This should keep most of the king’s horses and most of the king’s men completely out of the game.”

  She scratched another line from the trees to the rear wall of the castle. “At the same time, Bo-Peep will lead B Company here, using the scaffolding to climb over the west wall, where they will attempt to isolate the king. In chess we call it a double attack, which might lead to a windmill.”

  “One question,” said Dumpty. “Is a windmill a good thing?”

  “Unless it’s happening to you, a windmill is a very good thing.”

  Dumpty smiled at Elspeth. “You’re enjoying this.”

  Elspeth thought about that for a moment and had to agree. “I like a good fight,” she said.

  “That you do,” said Dumpty. “Just one more question.”

  “Yes?”

  “Your plan seems like a marvelous one, don’t get me wrong. It’s just that . . . pardon me, but how do you plan on getting through the castle gate?”

  “Not sure yet,” Elspeth was forced to admit. “I’m hoping that report from Georgie will give us some ideas. I’m not sure what’s taking him so long. You haven’t seen him by any chance, have you?”

  Dumpty realized that he had not seen Georgie since the previous evening. This became all the more troubling when Farrah rushed into the tent, gasping for breath. “Elspeth,” she said, her face stiff with worry. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but there’s word from Manuel.”

  Immediately Elspeth feared the worst—that Krool’s army had entered the forest and would be upon them in half a day’s time. Thankfully, her assumption would prove incorrect when Farrah said, “No, it’s not Krool. It’s something else. Apparently Manuel has taken a traitor into custody. Someone on his way to the castle to give away our position.”

  “No,” said Elspeth, reluctant to believe what must certainly be true. “Not Georgie.”

  “I’ll dispatch a security detail to have him brought back right away,” said Dumpty. Then he added, “You tried to do a good thing. Don’t blame yourself for this.”

  “Of course I blame myself,” said Elspeth. “I’m the one who hired him. I’m the one who ignored all the warnings. This is my doing. Which is why I would like to go along. I want to look into his eyes when he tries to explain himself.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” said Dumpty. “We’ll depart presently.”

  In addition to Elspeth and Dumpty, the security detail consisted of Maury, Cory, and Rory, three lads of imposing stature, and all with a keen dislike of King Krool, the man responsible for their having to live in a shoe for most of their formative years.

  Armed with their newly issued Shaolin fighting sticks, the brothers escorted Elspeth and Dumpty along the trail back to the suburbs. Georgie’s betrayal was more than just an embarrassment to Elspeth. It also dealt a strategic blow to her rebel army. “I wondered why he was taking so long with that report,” she said. “All this time he was supposed to be writing up information on the enemy, he was really compiling information about us.”

  “The enemy to him,” said Dumpty.

  “I suppose,” said Elspeth. “The problem is, I was counting on that information to give us an edge.”

  “I had an idea,” said Dumpty. “About how we might get that edge.”

  “Yes?” said Elspeth. “Go on.”

  “It occurred to me that the mice have tunneled into the castle once before. What’s to stop them from doing it again?”

  “I’m sorry,” said Elspeth, “but I fail to see how three tiny mice could be of much help.”

  “Let me ask you this,” said Dumpty. “What is the one thing that Krool’s army has that ours does not?”

  “Real weapons?”

  “Okay, what is the other thing they have that we don’t?”

  Elspeth thought for a moment. “Horses?”

  “Exactly. If there’s one thing I know about horses, besides the fact that they can deliver a rather mean kick to the face, it is that they are curiously frightened of rodents.”

  “I can relate to that,” said Elspeth. “Rodents give me the creeps. But I like your idea.”

  It had been a long time since someone expressed appreciation for one of Dumpty’s ideas. “Thank you,” he said.

  Before they could see Manuel, they could hear him, loudly chastising his captive for betraying his friends. Speaking back, the prisoner was defiant, indignant, and, as Elspeth and Dumpty would realize when they rounded the final bend, not Georgie.

  Hours of pleading for release and struggling to break free had left the Crooked Man both hoarse and near exhaustion, while his equally crooked cat sat upon one of Manuel’s broader branches, fast asleep.

  “Ah,” said Manuel when he saw Elspeth and her entourage approaching. “I’m glad you are here. Any more lip out of this guy and I might have poked him in the eye with a twig. When I overheard him talking to his cat about giving up your position to the enemy, I snatched him up right away.”

  “Howard?” said Dumpty when he’d gotten a good look at the Crooked Man. “Why would you do this?”

&n
bsp; “For the same reason I did before. Because she’s right,” he said, pointing at Elspeth. “You’re all a bunch of pathetic losers.”

  “Before?” said Elspeth. “You mean you’re the one who let Krool into the castle?”

  “That’s right,” said the Crooked Man. “And I’d do it again if I had the chance.”

  Dumpty’s jaw grew tight. He stepped forward and appeared very close to punching the Crooked Man in his crooked face. “The blood of everyone he’s killed is on your hands,” he said in a quavering voice.

  “I only helped facilitate what was an eventual certainty,” said the Crooked Man.

  “But why help Krool?” asked Elspeth. “He ran you over with his carriage and then banished you to the forest.”

  “Just a story I concocted,” said the Crooked Man. “My affliction is actually the result of being in the wrong place at the wrong time as London Bridge was falling down. Krool pulled me from the rubble and saved my life. It was then that I vowed to help in any way possible to see him on the throne and to do my best to keep him there.”

  “So you’ve been spying on us for years,” said Dumpty.

  “I’m a better spy than you’ll ever be,” said the Crooked Man with a wicked cackle.

  “The day before I was attacked,” said Dumpty. Again, he ran his hand across the scars on his face. “I told you of my plan to spy on Krool.”

  “That was your first mistake.”

  “So it’s true then. You sold me out. They could’ve killed me.”

  “They should have,” said the Crooked Man. “Would’ve finally put you out of your misery.”

  Elspeth was both shocked that the traitor had turned out to be the Crooked Man and relieved to find out it was not Georgie. Still, none of this answered the question of what had become of one of her closest advisors.

  The mystery would be solved when Elspeth and the others returned to the new camp to find Georgie waiting impatiently. “Aha,” he said upon seeing the Crooked Man, with hands tied, being escorted into the clearing. “I thought there was something about your accusations. A little too enthusiastic perhaps.”

  “You’re a fool, Georgie,” clipped the Crooked Man. “And you’ll be sorry you sided with these washouts.”