The Hero's Guide to Storming the Castle

by Christopher Healy

“You were right, Lila. This must have a connection to the sword,” Liam said.

  Lila flipped pages faster. “Here! There’s a chapter called ‘The Jewels of the Sword of Erinthia.’ Jeez, there’s a story in here for every single stone on the sword. There are like fifty of them!”

  “Just skim,” said Liam. “See if anything stands out.”

  “Let’s see,” Lila said as she ran her finger along the lines of text. “Diamond from a mine, ruby from under the sofa, amethyst that was traded for a herd of pegasi . . .”

  “Ha! I have a toy poodle with more bite than you.” Briar laughed.

  “A poodle? Is that who does your hair?” Gustav tossed back.

  “Oh, you want to bring hair into this?” Briar grinned. “Eat any good porridge lately?”

  “Are you calling me a little girl? ’Cause I’ll—”

  “Hey, that reminds me,” Briar said. “Weren’t you dancing with young Miss Lila earlier? Where is she now?” Briar glanced all around the room.

  “She just went to the, uh, you know, the powder room,” Gustav said.

  “She’s been gone a long time, hasn’t she?”

  Gustav shrugged. “Don’t ask me. I have no idea what girls do in there.”

  “Hmm,” Briar said. “I’d hate to think my sister-in-law got into some sort of trouble. I’d better go check on her.”

  “I’m sure she’s fine,” Gustav said. “Stay and . . . dance some more. With . . . me.”

  At that moment, the final notes of a waltz faded out and the orchestra stopped for a break. “We’ll be back in five minutes,” the bandleader announced. “In the meantime, everybody enjoy some crispy pixie wings.”

  “Perfect timing,” Briar said. And she left the ballroom.

  “Found it!” Lila said, almost too loudly. “Look! JJDG!”

  She’d just turned to a story titled “The Orange Jade,” beside which Briar had jotted the four mysterious letters. The tale revolved around Prince Dorun, Liam’s great-great-great-great-great-great-great-grandfather (give or take a few “greats”).

  “Could one of those Js stand for ‘jade’?” Lila asked. She and Liam feverishly read on.

  Several hundred years ago, it seemed, Prince Dorun embarked on a long and hazardous journey to the desert land of Aridia. Up until that point in history, no member of the Erinthian royal family had ever left his or her kingdom. But the plump Prince Dorun had a notorious sweet tooth, and when he heard rumors of an Aridian treat called a maldente—consisting of twelve different kinds of sugar molded into a solid sugar nugget that was topped with powdered sugar, dipped in sugared cream, and filled with a liquid sugar center—nothing could hold him back. Sadly for Dorun, he never got a chance to taste the legendary maldente; he and his party were caught in a violent sandstorm and became hopelessly lost among the dunes.

  They wandered for weeks, until they happened upon a half-buried temple: cracked columns and broken slabs of granite rising up from the sand. At its center lay a skeleton draped in tatters of magenta silk, clutching a glistening object in its bony hand. When the starving Prince Dorun saw what he thought was a big, sparkling jelly bean, he pried it from the corpse’s long-dead fingers, took a tremendous bite, and instantly broke his four front teeth. Because he’d actually chomped down on a rather large orange gemstone. Disappointed that it was not candy but still rather happy that he’d discovered a priceless-looking treasure, Dorun pocketed the strange, glowing jewel and continued his search for a way out of the desert.

  Months later, Prince Dorun crawled back through the gates of the Erinthian royal palace alone. The fate of the other members of his traveling party remained unknown (though quite a few people wondered why the prince hadn’t lost any weight after months of wandering in the desert). Dorun presented the eerie, orange-hued gem to his family. As a reward, the king and queen gave him total control over the royal kitchen and its menu. It was not an honor Dorun had asked for, but one he’d dreamed of since he was a child. “It’s like you read my mind,” the prince said.

  At that time, the palace’s royal craftsmen were completing work on the Sword of Erinthia, a jeweled sword of intricate splendor such that the world had never seen. And Dorun’s unusual piece of orange jade was given a place of honor at the base of the blade.

  Liam shut the book and looked at his sister. “If I’m reading Briar correctly, the sword itself means nothing,” he said. “It’s this gem she wants, the orange jade.”

  “And I bet that lullaby will tell us why,” Lila said. “We’ve got to listen to it tonight.”

  Liam nodded. “For now, though, put the book away. We’ve got to get back downstairs.”

  The clack of Briar’s tall heels echoed down the empty hall as she strode toward the ladies’ washroom. She put her hand on the knob and paused. Had she heard someone else’s footsteps?

  “Ruffian?” she whispered into the silence of the corridor. There was no reply. She huffed and turned the knob. But before she could open the door, there was a loud crash from up above, followed by a cry for help.

  Briar abandoned the washroom door and darted to the staircase across the hall. She began running up to investigate but was stopped at the second-floor landing by a trio of guardsmen speeding past her.

  “Go back downstairs, Your Highness!” a guard barked. “It’s the Gray Phantom!”

  Just as Lila turned the key to relock Briar’s desk drawer, she and Liam heard the screams from outside the room.

  “Go back down quickly!” Liam whispered urgently. “Make sure to drop the key on the dance floor somewhere!”

  “But I’m in my bloomers,” Lila protested.

  “Go!” Liam repeated. Lila slipped out the window, taking Briar’s key with her. Just then the door was kicked open from the outside, revealing a man dressed in gray with two unmoving guards at his feet. Liam recognized the stranger’s intricate demon-face mask immediately.

  The Gray Phantom wavered when he spotted Liam.

  “Not who you were expecting?” Liam asked. For lack of a better weapon, he grabbed a silver hand mirror off Briar’s vanity table and swung it. Surprising Liam with his speed, the Phantom caught Liam’s arm, bent it behind his back, and pushed him painfully out into the hallway. He slammed Liam into the wall and sent him to the ground with a hard kick to the small of his back.

  Lying on the floor, Liam heard the sound of many approaching footsteps. “Stop! Thief!” guards yelled as they rushed down the corridor. With a crash of shattering glass, the Phantom dove through a window at the end of the hall and disappeared into the darkening night.

  “Your Highness, are you all right?” one guard asked as he helped Liam to his feet. Liam ignored him and rushed to peer out through the window. There was no sign of the Phantom. He knelt for a quick check of the guards on the ground; they were barely alive.

  “Get these men medical help immediately,” he said, and sped to the stairs.

  A few seconds later, Liam burst back into the ballroom. While the orchestra played a slow ballad, he darted over to Gustav, Ella, Duncan, and Snow.

  “Thank goodness you’re back,” Ella said when she saw him coming. “Briar left and—”

  “Someone attacked us upstairs,” Liam said breathlessly. “Someone wearing a Gray Phantom mask.”

  “The Gray Phantom is here?!” Duncan screamed. Violins screeched and oboes fizzled as the orchestra’s music abruptly cut off—only to be replaced by shrieks of fear. “Wait,” Duncan continued. “Who’s the Gray Phantom?”

  Before anyone could explain, the royal ballroom turned into total bedlam. The formerly dignified guests shoved past one another as they scrambled and clawed their way to the exits. A white-haired earl belly flopped into the onion dip, and a beauty-marked duchess skidded on her bottom through a puddle of cocktail sauce. Spit valves spilled and xylophone sticks flew through the air as band members fled. The monocle-wearing baron leaned over to his wife and said, “This is not as good as the wedding.” Then somebody pushed him into a bowl of
pudding.

  In minutes, the majority of the guests had run off, and the ballroom looked like the aftermath of a tornado. Shattered plates, broken clarinets, and squashed rhino nuggets littered the dance floor. Briar walked in from the hall and began pulling at her hair.

  “Hey, Briar,” Lila called out, after stealthily slipping back in through the window. “Look what your rotten guests did to my dress!”

  In one corner of the ballroom, an overturned table shifted as Little Taylor crawled out from under it. His gold lamé suit was spattered and dripping with red wine. “What happened?” he muttered. “I thought I’d finally won that countess over and then—bam!”

  “Taylor,” Liam asked, “could anyone have stolen the Gray Phantom mask you made?”

  Taylor shook his head. “Impossible.” He reached inside his jacket and pulled out a gray cloth mask, onto which only half of the Phantom’s elaborate demon pattern had been embroidered. “I haven’t even finished it yet.”

  Liam looked at the others. “That means it was the real Gray Phantom. He must have followed us from Flargstagg.”

  “Now I’m kind of glad Frederic isn’t here,” Ella said.

  “Well, I should probably be going,” Frederic said.

  He stood up, gave a gallant bow, and headed back outside. Rapunzel followed.

  “It’s dark,” she said. “Are you sure you don’t want to wait until morning?”

  “It’s okay. Tomorrow’s our last day to dig into Briar’s secrets before the mission,” Frederic said. “I’ll just sleep on the horse.” He walked over to Rapunzel’s stable, put one foot into a horse’s stirrup, and began to climb onto the saddle.

  “Wait,” Rapunzel called. “That’s the wrong horse!”

  Her red-brown mare, Pippi—with whom Frederic’s Gwendolyn had been sharing the stable—was spooked by the stranger mounting her in the dark. She reared up onto her hind legs and sent Frederic spilling to the ground.

  “Frederic, are you all right?” Rapunzel called as she ran into the stable.

  “Yes, I think—OW!” Frederic was hit with a powerful jolt of pain as he tried to pull himself up. “No. That would be a no. Not all right. My leg. Ow-ow-ow.”

  Rapunzel knelt next to him and rolled up his left pant leg to check the injury.

  “Oh, my goodness,” she gasped. “That looks awful. It’s bending in a very wrong direction.”

  “That would explain the immense pain,” Frederic said, blue faced.

  Rapunzel lowered her head. “Be still,” she said.

  Frederic tried hard to calm himself. He watched as Rapunzel’s shoulders shuddered and a single tear fell from her eye and splashed onto his shattered leg. In less than a second, an eerie humming sound filled the air. Frederic’s leg began to vibrate and slowly pulled itself back into a normal position. The pain was gone.

  “Thank you,” Frederic wheezed as he tried to catch his breath.

  Rapunzel wiped her eye. “You did that on purpose,” she said.

  “What?” Frederic asked, incredulous. “Me? Break my leg on purpose? You obviously need to get to know me a little better. I avoid pain at all costs. When I’m sewing, I wear thimbles on all ten fingers.”

  “So this wasn’t just a way of playing on my emotions? Making me feel guilty if I’m not there to save you when you get hurt again?”

  “No, of course not.” Frederic looked hurt by the accusation. “I meant everything I said tonight. I would never be dishonest with you.”

  Rapunzel looked into his watery eyes, and she believed him. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I guess I just haven’t come to expect the best from the men in my life. My father sold me for turnips, and, well, you know what happened with Gustav.”

  “It’s okay,” Frederic said. “I understand.”

  She grabbed a blanket off a nearby shelf and handed it to Frederic. “I’m not letting you leave in the dark. Sleep here. I hope you don’t mind using a horse blanket.”

  “This will be fine,” Frederic said. He found a corner away from the animals, piled up some hay, and lay down with the blanket. “Thank you. And good night.”

  “What do you think you’re doing?” Briar asked sharply.

  Ella was mopping up some spattered cheese sauce in the wrecked ballroom.

  “Where did you even get a mop?” Briar said. “My staff will clean up. All of you are being escorted back to your rooms.”

  “Fine with us,” Liam said.

  “And as a safety precaution, everyone will have guards posted outside their doors,” Briar continued.

  “We don’t need—” Gustav began.

  “Stop,” Briar commanded. “The Gray Phantom just attacked my palace. He could still be around here somewhere. I’m doubling the amount of guards around the palace, inside and out. And until the Phantom is apprehended, everyone will remain in their rooms.”

  “But what if he’s never caught?” Liam asked. “What about the mission?”

  “Of course you’ll be allowed out for the mission—I want my sword,” Briar said, rolling her eyes. “But you’ll stay locked up until then if need be. Oh, and don’t worry; I’ve informed General Kuffin about your need for catapults. He’ll have them ready for you on the morning of the mission.” Before anybody could argue, she marched out of the ballroom. Liam and the others could see the guards waiting for them in the hall.

  “Catapults?” Snow asked, her lip quivering slightly.

  Liam turned to Taylor. “When you’re done with that mask, I may need you to make some glider wings, too.”

  Taylor shrugged. “I’ll get started on them now.” And he walked out into the hall, where two soldiers immediately took him by the arms and led him to his room.

  “Guys,” Liam said, stopping the others before they left. “We found out that it’s not really the sword Briar wants; it’s one particular gem on the sword. Orange jade.”

  “I like lemonade better,” Duncan said.

  “Not orangeade,” Liam said. “Orange jade.”

  “I thought jade was green,” Ella said.

  “Normal jade is,” Lila explained. “The orange stuff is incredibly rare.”

  “Well, why does Briar want this particular stone?” Ella asked.

  “We don’t know,” Liam said. “We need to hear that bard song.”

  “And it won’t be tonight, now that we’re all grounded,” Lila grumbled.

  “I have a question,” Snow said. “Why did you ask the sewing man to make glider wings?”

  “Because if we don’t also come up with a better way past the Wall of Secrecy,” Liam said, “Briar is going to shoot us out of catapults in twenty-four hours.”

  16

  A HERO FORGETS THE LYRICS

  Never underestimate the power of music. A mandolin over the head can really knock someone for a loop.

  —THE HERO’S GUIDE TO BEING A HERO

  The next morning, Frederic awoke to hot, wet horse breath on his neck. Gwendolyn was snuffling her nose against him.

  “Good morning,” he said drowsily to the horse.

  “Good morning,” he heard Rapunzel reply brightly.

  Frederic opened his eyes and sat up to see Rapunzel standing with her horse, Pippi. She was wearing a clean white dress and had her hair tied back into a thick ponytail. Apples and bread peeked out of Pippi’s overstuffed saddlebags.

  “Ready to go?” Rapunzel asked. “I packed some breakfast for the road.”

  “You’re coming? Are you sure about this?” Frederic asked.

  “Well, I’m not going into the Bandit King’s castle with you,” Rapunzel answered. “It’s not like I’ve suddenly become a whole new person overnight: So long, Rapunzel, Healer of the Ill! Hello, Rapunzel, Smiter of the Wicked! No, that’s still not me. I don’t fight. But I can be there for anyone who needs my help afterward.”

  “What about your patients?”

  “They can wait,” Rapunzel said. “They don’t call them patients for nothing.”

  Frederic chuckled. �
��But seriously, they’ll need you, right?”

  “I’ve given the sprites some pointers in basic first aid. I think they can handle things here for a few days.”

  “I . . . I, um . . . I don’t know what to say,” Frederic stammered.

  “I’m sure you’ll think of something,” Rapunzel smirked. “You have a way with words.”

  “Are you teasing me?” Frederic said with a grin. “I had no idea you could be so . . . lively. Please don’t take offense to that. It’s just that you usually seem—”

  “So serious?” she said. “Well, healing the sick and injured isn’t the most lighthearted of professions. Maybe that’s why I was so happy to get a visit from someone in good health. Oh! Speaking of health . . . Here, take this.” Rapunzel took a small glass vial of clear liquid and tucked it into the inner chest pocket of Frederic’s jacket. “It’s a little backup supply of my tears. Just in case you need it before you can reach me.”

  Frederic was suddenly, terrifyingly aware that his hair, after sleeping in a barn, was a complete mess. “I should freshen up before we go. Do you have a mirror?”

  “Sorry,” Rapunzel said, shaking her head. “Oh, but my dish is pretty shiny. You can probably see your reflection in it if you needed to. It’s in the cottage by the washpot.”

  Frederic excused himself and jogged inside. As he cleaned up and straightened his bed head, something sitting in the corner of the cottage caught his eye. He called Rapunzel inside and pointed to the incredibly odd-looking . . . well, for lack of a better word, let’s call it a statue. The figure’s body was a warped tree branch. It had broken pinecone arms, a round pebble nose, a crookedly carved smile, and a hearty handful of ragweed hair.

  “Where did you get that?” Frederic asked.

  “Nice, huh? It’s supposed to be me,” Rapunzel said. “It was a gift from a patient—a giant who had an incredible blister on his big toe. Sweet guy, but . . .”

  “Was this giant’s name Reese, by any chance?”

  “Yes,” Rapunzel said with surprise. “How did you know that?”

  “He crushed me once,” Frederic said. “Not the time you fixed me up—that was a different crushing. I guess I get crushed more than the average person.”