along behind me, so I took off at a full sprint. Up ahead, I saw a sign that said “Recruitment.” I’d made it. I glanced back to see two other soldiers emerge, point at me, and give chase. I knew with that chain mail they wore they didn't stand a chance of catching me before I reached the door. I smiled and started preparing a taunt.
The next thing I knew, I was looking up at blue sky framed by stone walls. Then I realized that my nose hurt.
“Think yer smart, huh kid.” As my eyes came into focus, Bum-stabber's ugly face sneered over me.
“Smarter than you,” my mouth said before my brain could stop it. And believe me, that comment did smart.
After he was satisfied with my pleas for mercy, Bum-stabber grabbed the front of my shirt (well, Frederica's shirt, but I wasn't going to tell him that) and put his ugly mug next to my face. “How 'bout a nice long visit to the dungeons with you. I'm tired of yer ugly face.” Man, did the guy have bad breath. It made the privy smell like roses in comparison.
“And I'm tired of your uglier one,” I retorted. Ouch. Once I recovered from my face meeting his palm, I asked, “What do you have against me?”
“Nuthin', 'cept for bein' an ugly, thievin' peasant with no business 'ere.”
“I told you, I came to join the army.”
“A runt like you? I can smell a dirty thief from a mile away. An' that's what you is.” Bum-stabber grunted as he dragged me up the street. His two colleagues joined him. I tried to scramble out of his grip but couldn't.
“What is going on here, Sergeant?” asked a deep voice from behind us.
Sergeant Bum-stabber stopped and turned around. “Lord Korac. Sorry to have bothered you. I'm just takin' this load of garbage to the dungeon.”
I twisted my neck around and saw a large, heavy-set man in a glowing, purple robe. He held a turkey drumstick in one hand and wore a frown on his bearded face. “On what charge?”
“Fer bein' a stinkin' thief.”
Lord Korac looked at me. “Is this true?”
“No, honest,” I said. Bum-stabber raised an arm to slap me.
“Stop!” Lord Korac commanded. “I thought I heard this young man say he wanted to join the army. Bring him to my office.” He turned and headed through the door under the recruitment sign.
Bum-stabber snarled, but he obeyed the court wizard by dragging me roughly inside. The two other guards waited outside while we entered a room with three tables. One table was covered in books and papers while another had glass containers holding various liquids and dried samples.
Korac sat behind the third table. “Now, I'd like to hear the charges against this young man.”
Bum-stabber stammered for several seconds. I smiled my sweetest smile at him, which earned me a kick to my already tender rump.
“You haven't answered my question, Sergeant.”
“I'm sure he musta stole somethin'. Those clothes fer instance. They ain't the ones he wore yesterday.”
Korac turned his attention toward me, “And what do you have to say for yourself, son? Did you steal those clothes?”
I stood up and brushed myself off. “No, sir. They were given to me.”
“By whom?”
“A nice, young lady. She saw the deplorable state of my old clothes and gave me these.” I poured all the 'poor little urchin' look into my face as I could.
“And you want to join the army?” Korac asked.
“Yes sir.”
At least Korac didn't laugh, but he stared at me long and hard. He frowned and shook his head. “You are telling the truth. But I'm afraid I can't accept your request. Go back home to your family.”
“What?” After all I'd been through he was going to turn me down? That just wasn't right. I put my hands on my hips. “Look, I know I'm not large, but I'm fast, and I can wield a sword as good, if not better, than any other soldier in the kingdom. My father fought and died in the service of King Fritz. You owe me a chance to serve King Frankfurt!”
My rousing speech earned me enough sympathy to get a whack along the side of the head from Bum-stabber.
Korac pointed at the door. “That will be enough, Sergeant. Out!”
“But, m'lord, he's too small and–”
“OUT!”
Bum-stabber sneered before turning and leaving the building with a resounding slam of the door.
Korac took his time looking me over. I tried to stand as tall and heroically as I could. Finally, he shook his head. “I'm sorry, kid, I like your spirit and all, but you'd be chopped up faster than a cow in a butcher shop if you went to battle. You may go, but if Sergeant Uchdehn gives you any more trouble, come see me.”
That was it? I was just to turn around and return to the farm with my proverbial tail between my legs? No, not I, not Myrick the Majestic. “Isn't there anything else I can do to serve the king?”
Korac scratched his beard and looked at me some more. “You say you're fast? How good are you at running?”
“Running? I can run all day without stopping. I'm faster than a frightened deer; I have the endurance of a Decidian dragon.” Okay, I exaggerated a little, but who doesn't during a job interview?
Korac smiled and nodded. “I may have a position for you after all. How would you like to be in the king's royal messenger service?”
“Sure,” I said, before my brain could think about it.
He pulled a piece of paper from the pile on the desk. He held it up and asked, “Can you read this?”
I almost said 'yes', but stopped before my mouth ruined my chances. My mom taught me how to read from a book of legends. Unfortunately, it was illegal for peasants to know how to read so I couldn't let Korac know. “No, my lord.”
“Good.” He put the paper down on the desk and chanted, “Hoba longa ten dush-ee!” His fingers thrust out as if he were sprinkling water on the paper. I didn't see anything, though. He then handed me a quill with ink on it and said, “Put your mark on that line.”
I smiled enthusiastically and put my symbol on the page. As I finished the mark, a strange, golden glow ran out from the paper, into my hand, and up my arm. I jumped back and shook it, but it had returned to normal. It took a while before I learned that I had signed a magic contract; one that cannot easily be broken.
Korac grinned and rolled the contract up. He sealed it with some wax and put it on a rack with several other scrolls. “Now we need to get you dressed properly.” He went over to a closet and pulled out a red uniform. A dorky-looking red uniform. “Here you go, lad.” He tossed it to me.
I tried not to grimace as I caught it. “Thanks.”
A thought occurred to me. If there was a uniform, perhaps there would be armaments, like a magic sword or something? “Do I get a weapon, too? Something to protect myself?” I asked a little too enthusiastically.
Korac scratched his armpit as he considered my request. He reached back into the closet and pulled out a little knife in a sheath. A really, really little knife. I caught it when he lobbed it my way.
My enthusiasm faded as I looked at the tiny thing in my hand. I only had one hope left. “Is it magical?”
Korac laughed and put a hand on his round belly. “I guess, if you want it to be. What is your name, son?”
“Myrick.” The Mortified.
“Well, Myrick, welcome to King Frankfurt's Royal Messenger Service.”
* * *
Thus began my illustrious career as a message carrier for King Frankfurt the Fifth of Fringolia. I left the castle later that day with my first bag of messages and armed with my magic toad-sticker. During my time, I did gain several magical items and met some very strange characters. I also battled bandits, enemy soldiers, undead sorcerers, troglyns, and even a dragon once. No, I'm not kidding, a real live, fire-breathing dragon. Okay, it was a baby, but so what?
But I knew more than anything else that I had an even more important mission in life: to rescue a princess.
About the Author:
Berin grew up in Chugiak, Alaska. He has a mast
ers degree in saxophone performance and teaches saxophone and clarinet lessons. He currently lives in Orem, Utah with his wife, five kids, dog, cat and aloe plant.
Berin’s first book, The Dragon War Relic, came out in 2009 and is a young adult fantasy/sci-fi/action/comedy. His second book is Time Gangsters and came out in 2012. It is a middle grade urban fantasy. He also has a series of stories up at BigWorldNetwork.com called Delroy Versus the Yshtari.
For more information, visit: https://berinstephens.com
The Princess and the Privy Page 4