Blue in the Face

by Gerry Swallow

  She admonished her troops to hurry as the drawbridge crawled upward and the portcullis raced down.

  “Run!” she yelled. But all her urging was no force to compare with gravity.

  And then, just as it appeared that defeat was a foregone conclusion, her advancing troops heard another voice, this one coming from behind them. “Look out!” yelled the Cheese. “Coming through!” Those who were not fast enough to get out of the way were quickly mowed over by the giant rolling dairy product.

  Rodney hit the rising drawbridge at full speed. The gap between the platform and the ground caused him to fly several feet into the air upon impact. When he hit the downward sloping drawbridge, he picked up even more speed and rolled beneath the portcullis. Its iron tines sunk deep into his waxy rind with an awful squishing noise that caused Elspeth, and anyone else watching, to gasp. Like a dull meat cleaver into an overripe tomato the gate crushed the Cheese, pushing his malleable body toward the ground until, just like that, it stopped. Three feet from the ground, a big enough gap for Elspeth’s troops to fit beneath, the portcullis stopped. And when Jack and Jill came to Rodney’s aid, he groaned, “I’m all right! The Cheese stands alone! Now, go!”

  Quite obviously, he was not all right and was in no condition to stand, alone or otherwise, but his friends had no choice other than to leave him.

  By the time the last of A Company scurried beneath the gate with the drawbridge continuing to rise, Bo-Peep and B Company had climbed onto the catwalk and were well on their way to isolating the king by cutting off his escape from the East Tower.

  Meanwhile, Elspeth led A Company to the barracks to pin the soldiers inside. But the misfiring trebuchet and the near disaster of the portcullis had cost them far too much time. When they finally reached the barracks, soldiers were already streaming out. They charged the rebels with swords drawn and spears leveled.

  “First position!” Elspeth ordered. The Quick Stick Brigade, their backs to the wall, formed a wedge and met the attacking soldiers with lunges and parries, taking them out with sharp smacks to the temples and thrusting uppercuts to their jaws. Down the soldiers went, one after another, in piles while others turned and ran.

  In stark contrast to Elspeth’s well-conditioned troops, years of complacency had left Krool’s men in terrible shape, and even running away was a difficult task. Some of them dropped their weapons and surrendered on the spot, begging not to be bludgeoned.

  By now, all this commotion had awoken the king. He dressed hurriedly as his four most trusted guards filled him in. “What is it? What’s going on?” he demanded.

  “The castle is under attack,” said the man with the sideburns.

  “Under attack by whom?” Krool demanded. Quickly he buckled up his shoes and did up his belt.

  “It appears that we were mistaken, sire,” said the man with the Van Dyke. “As it turns out, she’s alive.”

  “Who’s alive?” asked Krool, though there could really be only one answer to the question.

  “Jacqueline Jillson,” the man replied. “Also known as . . .”

  Krool reached out and grabbed the man by his pointy beard. “I know who she is. You assured me she was dead!”

  “Prematurely, it would appear,” said the man. “I’m sorry, Your Highness.”

  “You’re sorry? You’ll have plenty of time to show everyone how sorry you are when your sorry head is displayed on a pike!”

  Krool pushed his way past the men on his way to the door.

  “Sir?” said the man with the Van Dyke. “Perhaps you should wait here where it’s safe.”

  “Are you suggesting I should hide? From an eleven-year-old girl?”

  “Yes, sir, I am.”

  In an instant, the tower shook from the base to the turret with a direct hit from the trebuchet. Cracks appeared on the wall, and plaster rained down upon their heads. “On second thought,” said the guard, “perhaps we should get moving.”

  Krool clipped his scabbard to his belt, drew his sword, and followed the others out the door and down the stairs to the catwalk.

  With the rebel forces inside the castle walls, Dumpty and Winkie put the trebuchet to rest for fear of hitting their own troops. All they could do now was sit and hope with eyes trained on the East Tower, waiting for the appearance of the Winkie flag.

  Stepping out onto the catwalk, Krool saw for the first time just how serious the situation had become. The castle wasn’t under attack from an eleven-year-old girl. It was under attack from an eleven-year-old girl and her well-trained and highly disciplined army.

  Bo-Peep’s B Company was advancing quickly along the catwalk toward Krool and his guards.

  “Stop them!” he ordered. The guards rushed toward the attackers but soon proved a poor match. Bo-Peep herself took out three of them singlehandedly. A sharp chop to the legs of the man with the goatee delivered him quickly to the ground. The one with the handlebar mustache tripped over the first guard, and as he stumbled forward he was met with the end of the stick in the forehead.

  Stubbornly the man with the sideburns raised his spear with the intention of throwing it through Bo-Peep’s heart. He released the spear and might have been successful if not for Bo-Peep’s intense concentration and incredible quickness. With her stick, she sideswiped the spear, sending it twirling away toward the courtyard floor.

  She followed with a full 360-degree spin, which generated such power that when the stick landed aside the man’s head, it sent him crumpling into a useless pile.

  All that now stood between Bo-Peep and the person who had murdered her sheep was the man with a Van Dyke beard on his pale, quivering face. He dropped his spear, raised his hands, and fell to his knees. Bo-Peep pushed him roughly aside and rushed toward Krool, her stick lowered, eyes locked on her target.

  But Krool’s eyes were focused elsewhere, for that spear that Bo-Peep so deftly deflected had claimed an unintended victim, and that victim was Elspeth Pule. Like a helicopter blade, the tip of the twirling lance had sliced through her forehead, causing her to sink to the ground, her face awash in blood. Next to her lay Gene and the Winkie flag, its gold background spattered in red.

  Krool crouched down and jumped from the catwalk. He landed on the roof of the butcher shop and slid down across the shingles, absorbing each bump until his feet hit the stone floor of the courtyard just inches from Elspeth’s bleeding head.

  Her followers watched with shock and utter horror as Krool pulled the girl to her feet and placed the cold blade of his sword across her throat.

  “Stop!” he commanded.

  With that singular word Elspeth’s entire army immediately froze.

  “Drop those sticks this instant!” Krool’s rich baritone voice volleyed off the stone walls and across the sudden silence, where it eventually made its way to the ears of Winkie and Dumpty.

  “What was that?” gasped Dumpty. “It sounded like Krool.”

  “It sounded like Krool demanding surrender,” said Winkie.

  And that was exactly what he was demanding: complete and immediate surrender. He demonstrated his resolve by pressing the blade so firmly against Elspeth’s throat that it made breathing difficult.

  “Well?” he said to the sea of stunned faces before him. “Do you think I won’t do it? I once threw her down a well, remember?”

  “No,” Elspeth gurgled. “Don’t do it. He’ll kill me anyway.”

  What Winkie and Dumpty heard next was the sound of two hundred fighting sticks hitting the ground almost at once.

  “What do you think is going on?” asked Winkie, still holding out hope.

  “I don’t know,” said Dumpty. “But I’m not going to wait here to find out. To the scaffolding!”

  Dumpty scooped up Winkie and sprinted from the trees to the castle, where Krool was busy berating and belittling his soldiers for having lost to a bunch of stick-bearing peasants. He ordered them to pull their battered bodies off the ground and retrieve their weapons. As they complied with the order, Krool
gritted his teeth and prepared for the nasty business ahead. He’d been judge and jury for Elspeth and would now add executioner to that list.

  As they had years ago, Jack and Jill once more watched helplessly as Krool prepared to end their daughter’s life, this time not by frigid water but by cold steel. But before Krool could complete the task, a sudden blow to the back of his head knocked the sword from his hand. His knees wobbled, and he dropped like a sack of potatoes.

  “No loitering!” sneered the sign standing directly behind him.

  Jack quickly rushed over and placed his good foot on the back of Krool’s neck, pinning him to the ground.

  “I never did like him,” said No Loitering.

  Jack retrieved the fallen sword and positioned it directly over the left side of Krool’s back where his cold heart was beating rapidly. Eleven years of shame, sorrow, and loss gave way to eleven years of anger as Jack raised the blade and prepared to plunge it in every bit as deep as the pain he’d endured.

  “No,” said Elspeth. “Please.”

  Jack looked at his daughter, reluctantly because he knew the moment his eyes met hers, he would have no choice but to comply with her wishes.

  “It’s much too good an end for him,” she said. “Prison. That’s where he belongs.”

  Gently, Elspeth pried the sword from her father’s hand, and he seemed grateful to have been relieved of it. She then knelt next to Krool and moved her lips very close to his ear. “Don’t worry,” she said. “You’ll get a fair trial. I have an excellent lawyer for you. Jack B. Nimble. Perhaps you’ve heard of him.”

  “This is not over!” yelled Krool into the dirt. “Attack! Let’s go, you idiots! Attack them!”

  Elspeth’s army grabbed their sticks and prepared to do battle, but instead something strange happened. It began slowly then built up momentum as Krool’s soldiers began not attacking, but cheering. They dropped their swords and their spears, raised their hands, and, though clearly defeated, somehow managed to let out what sounded like a triumphant cheer.

  Once the confusion had passed, Elspeth’s soldiers joined in until the sound in that courtyard was absolutely deafening. Still, above the din there was one voice that could clearly be made out. Wiping the blood from her eyes, Elspeth looked up to see Dumpty, skipping and prancing back and forth along the castle wall, screaming at the top of his lungs while showing absolutely no signs of dizziness.

  Humpty Dumpty danced on a wall,

  Humpty Dumpty having a ball.

  All of Krool’s horses and all of Krool’s men

  Never would harm poor Dumpty again.

  Chapter 29

  The afternoon breeze showed up just in time to give some life to the flag flying from the pole on the East Tower. By way of Little Robin Redbreast, word of the great victory had reached the forest, and in a matter of hours Fergus and Farrah would arrive to take part in the celebration of a military victory that resulted in only a few minor casualties and one major one.

  Though he would never be quite the same, Simple Simon and Jack Horner were able to push the Cheese back into a mostly roundish shape by placing him in the oversize dish that had been used to bake that giant everyberry pie and using it as a mold.

  “How do you feel?” asked Elspeth as the Cheese rolled around the kitchen like a car with a flat tire.

  “Are you kidding? The Trojan Cheese has never felt better,” he said. “Now let’s get this party started.”

  Now that Krool was firmly locked within the dungeon, life-size statues of the former ruler were toppled and smashed. Those giant tapestries bearing his likeness that hung from the walls of the courtroom where so many had been sentenced for nonexistent crimes were torn down and burned in the middle of the square, along with his blue velvet chair.

  Those who had once sworn allegiance to Krool were all too happy to devote themselves to King William and to his new bride.

  “Long live the queen,” they shouted when Farrah and Fergus were finally carried into the square, which by now was alive with music and dancing. Winkie rushed to greet his wife, and the cheers only grew louder as they embraced.

  “Welcome to your new home,” he said.

  “It’s beautiful,” said Farrah, taking in her surroundings. “Though it could do with a woman’s touch. I am a fashion doll after all.”

  “Whatever you think, my dear,” said Winkie. “Whatever you think.”

  As much as she wanted to partake in the victory party, Elspeth was feeling terribly anxious about her parents back home and about what they must be going through by now. “What day is it, anyway?” she asked, having not thought about such things for weeks.

  “It’s Wednesday,” said Georgie.

  Elspeth chuckled to herself. “Winkie Wednesday,” she said.

  “Yes,” said Winkie with a gleam in his eye. “What do you know about that?”

  Elspeth apologized for having to duck out on the first of what they all hoped would be many Winkie Wednesdays to come.

  “Don’t worry,” said Winkie. “It’s quite understandable. You’ve done enough for us. It’s time you did something for yourself.”

  “Of course you know I’ll be back,” she promised.

  “You’d better come and visit us,” said Fergus. “Or I’ll hunt you down. And we owls are quite good hunters, broken wings notwithstanding.” Fergus issued a salute with his good wing, and Elspeth sent one back.

  They formed a line, did the Quick Stick Brigade, that stretched the entire length of the courtyard. One by one Elspeth bid farewell to each of them on her way toward the castle gate, where Jack and Jill were already waiting to escort her to the well.

  There was no shortage of gratitude as she moved from one friend to the next. Georgie thanked her for putting her faith in him and for giving him a second chance. Bo-Peep thanked Elspeth for allowing her to take charge of her life. And Gene thanked her for all she’d done in helping to give sticks the recognition they deserve.

  Saying good-bye to each of them was difficult. Saying good-bye to some of them was downright painful.

  “I’m not sure what I’ll do without you,” Elspeth said to Queen Farrah. “I’ll have no one to talk to. No one to play chess with.”

  “Oh, I don’t know,” said Farrah. “I have a feeling you’ll end up with plenty of people to talk to. If not, you know where to find me. I’m not planning on going anywhere for a long time.”

  Elspeth gave her best friend one last hug.

  And then there was Dumpty.

  “I’ll never forget you,” she said, having no success in fighting back tears.

  “Nor I you,” said Dumpty, who was failing just as badly. “I owe you a great deal. For the first time in years, I’m stress free. As a result, my vertigo seems to have completely abandoned me. I feel like a young man again.” He performed a quick little dance that made Elspeth laugh right through her tears.

  “You are a young man,” she said. “And don’t worry. I’ll be sure to tell everyone the original stories.” She ran the sleeve of her uniform across her eyes. “I’ll spread the word, just as soon as I get back to the real world.”

  “The real world?”

  “Sorry. The other world. The Deadlands, as you call it.”

  An embrace followed that would have lasted much longer if not for Elspeth’s concern about her parents’ well-being. Reluctant as she may have been, that force pulled her toward the castle gate.

  The walk to the well was mostly silent with each of them, Jack, Jill, and Elspeth, wondering what they might say and afraid of how they might feel when they got there.

  The route took them over Krool’s golf course, past the zoo, and around the mulberry bush. When Jack and Jill stopped walking it took Elspeth a moment to realize that they’d arrived at their destination. The well looked quite unlike she’d imagined it would. There was no tiny shingled rooftop and no wooden bucket hanging from a crank. This well was nothing more than a circle of crumbling stone, in places only a foot or two high.
/>   “This is it?” asked Elspeth.

  “This is it,” said Jack, though it was not clear whether he was referring to the well or to the end. Or, perhaps, to both.

  Elspeth leaned over and peered into the dark hole. “You went down there?” she asked. “Voluntarily?”

  “There was nothing voluntary about it,” said Jill. “Someday, when you have children of your own, you’ll know what I mean.”

  Elspeth nodded but did not remove her gaze from the well.

  “I know it looks a little scary,” Jack admitted. “But it’s quite easy, really. The passageway is at the very bottom on the northern side. When you find it, just pull yourself through and you’ll be home.”

  “Home,” said Elspeth, not sure if she completely understood the meaning of the word anymore.

  “You will come out a bit wet on the other side, I’m afraid,” said Jill.

  Only now did Elspeth make the connection. She felt foolish for not having done so before. “The puddle on my carpet,” she said. “It was you, wasn’t it? You’ve been watching me sleep.”

  “Yes,” said Jill. “I’m sorry. It’s just that . . .”

  “No,” said Elspeth. “You needn’t be sorry. You can come and watch me sleep whenever you wish. Or you could come in the daytime. I could introduce you to my parents . . . my other parents. I’m sure they’d like you.”

  “We’ll see,” said Jill. “We only want what’s best for you.”

  She took Elspeth by the shoulders and looked at her from arm’s length as if trying to form a mental picture that could last her a very long time. “You’ve grown up so well,” she said. “So strong and so smart.”

  “Don’t forget spirited,” said Elspeth.

  Jill smiled at this. “Yes. No doubt about that.”

  “I guess it goes without saying how proud we are of you,” said Jack.

  “You could say it anyway,” said Elspeth. “I won’t mind if you do.”

  “We’re unbelievably proud of you,” he said. He embraced his daughter, and Jill joined in. It was a family hug, and Elspeth could not remember ever having been part of one before.