How to Save a Kingdom

by Bill Allen

  “Zappas?” said Brandon. Everyone looked to him questioningly. “He’s one of King Peter’s runners.”

  “That’s right,” said Priscilla. “Daddy did say he sent someone to find you.”

  “Brandon?” Zappas gasped. “Is it really you?” He took a deep breath and blurted out a single sentence, speaking as quickly as possible to get it all out with what little air he could muster. “King Peter wants you to return to the castle at once.”

  “I know,” said Brandon. “These folks already told me.”

  Zappas took in the entire group in a single disapproving glance. “Water,” he managed to say.

  “What took you so long?” Priscilla asked him. She dug through her pack and handed Zappas a canteen, which he sipped from sparingly, not wanting to waste a drop. “Don’t worry. It’s bottomless.”

  The runner’s mouth dropped open. He tipped the canteen straight up, spilling half over his face, and gulped uncontrollably. When his thirst was quenched, he wiped his chin ineffectually with his sleeve. “I just ran hundreds of miles in five days.”

  “You took the eastern trail?” said Priscilla. “Why not west through Guttering Torch Caverns?”

  “No one ventures that way. The darkness is impenetrable, and one wrong step would guarantee certain death.”

  “Oh. In that case, you made really great time. How’d you get here so fast?”

  He took a second drink from the canteen, this time more slowly. “I know a shortcut.”

  A scream split the air, the sound of some desolate soul being tortured within an inch of his life.

  “What was that?” Zappas cried, spilling the next few gulps of water on the sidewalk.

  “That, I’m afraid,” said Brandon, “is our heroic dragonslayer trying to stand up to Mother. Perhaps we should go back and rescue him.”

  “No,” said both spirelings simultaneously.

  Only then did Zappas notice Gnash and Gnaw. In spite of his fatigue he jumped back with astonishing quickness. “Look out.”

  “Relax, soldier,” said Ryder. “They’re friendly. Well, sort of.”

  The runner looked far from convinced.

  “What’s wrong?” Priscilla asked.

  Zappas covered his mouth with a trembling hand and spoke in a near whisper. “You must understand what it’s like for us runners. We survive the forests one way: because we can outrun danger. But these spirelings . . . once I stumbled across a pair in the hills north of the Infinite Spire. I’d have never believed it possible, but they ran past me so fast I barely saw them. Who knows what might have happened if they’d spotted me.”

  “We saw you,” said Gnash. “You just were not interesting.”

  “Did you want to come with us?” Priscilla asked Zappas.

  The runner’s eyes widened. He glanced toward the two spirelings. “You’re traveling with them?”

  “Of course,” said Priscilla. “We’re on our way back to the Infinite Spire to speak with their queen.”

  Zappas’s eyes grew wider still. In spite of the fact he’d just run hundreds of miles, he looked as if he’d turn right around and run the whole way back if it meant distancing himself from the spirelings. “If it’s all the same to you, I need to get back.”

  “But aren’t you tired?” Priscilla asked. “Don’t you want something to eat?”

  “Well, yes. I suppose a decent meal would be nice.”

  “Why don’t you stop off at Mother’s?” said Brandon. “I’m sure she’d love another guest, and I’d wager Marvin Greatheart would welcome the company.”

  Zappas looked skeptical. “Didn’t you just say that horrid screech came from the dragonslayer?”

  “Oh, sure, but he’s fine, believe me. And Mother’s a great cook.”

  The others nodded in agreement, though Greg did feel a bit guilty about not saying more.

  Zappas’s eyes drifted over to the two spirelings and quickly back again. “Food, a bit of rest and no spirelings. Yes, I could do that.”

  “It’s the yellow house with the bright pink trim,” Brandon managed to get out before Gnaw dragged him away.

  “Thanks,” Zappas shouted, though the sound was nearly lost beneath a second tormented shriek from Mrs. Alexander’s home. Even so, he took one last look at the spirelings and headed toward what he must have considered to be the safer of his two options.

  Nathan led the group farther down the sidewalk, stepped into one of the flower beds and motioned for the others to follow. It was a beautiful area, where the mixed aromas of flowers sent Greg’s head reeling, but Greg could see nothing that would distinguish it from any other spot.

  “Who wants to go first?” asked Nathan.

  Melvin cast his eyes about the flower bed. “Go where?”

  “I will,” said Priscilla. She squeezed past Melvin, stepped delicately over a mound of begonias and promptly popped out of existence.

  From the way Melvin jumped back from the portal, you’d have thought he’d just spotted a swinging dragon’s tail there. “Where’d she go?”

  “To the kingdom,” said Nathan. “You can go next.”

  “Not me,” said Melvin, but Gnash wasn’t in the mood for an argument. With a single flick of the flat of his axe, he sent the boy sailing headfirst through the portal. Melvin’s scream ended abruptly the instant his body zapped out of sight.

  “He was taking too long,” Gnash said in answer to the many accusing stares.

  As Greg stepped through the portal, he heard one last desperate plea from Mrs. Alexander’s home. “Pleeeeease . . .” came Greatheart’s panicked voice, but it cut off an instant later when Greg’s foot met frozen sand. Greg hopped about to stay warm while he slipped his cloak over his arms and pulled it tight.

  “This is amazing,” said Ryder, who stepped across after him. “I’ve been traveling these parts for twenty years, and I never knew that passage existed.”

  Brandon stepped through last. He paused to snug up his bright purple cloak. “What is this place? I’m afraid I don’t get away from the castle that often.”

  “They call this the Barren Reaches,” said Nathan. “It was here that the final battles of the Dragon Wars were waged. Sadly, the area has never recovered from the magic.”

  “What about the Infinite Spire?” said Greg, pointing to the impossibly tall tower looming above them to the north. “It still has plenty of magic, and it’s not desolate. The spirelings live there, or at least they did until recently.”

  “The spire is different,” explained Nathan. “It will never fall victim to magic because it is a product of magic itself.”

  The two spirelings moved up next to Nathan. “What do you know of our spire and its magic?” Gnash asked.

  “To be honest, probably more than you know yourselves.”

  The spireling smiled, an odd expression for a face dominated by dozens of jagged teeth. “Why is it I believe you? In any case, I hope one day to get the opportunity to discuss the subject with you further.”

  Nathan smiled as well. “Not half as much as I do,” he said, and Greg knew at once that Nathan was just as worried as Greg about the outcome of the upcoming battle.

  The distance back to the Infinite Spire from the portal seemed a tenth as long as it had in the other direction, but this probably had less to do with mileage and more to do with them not running into a single monster. Of course, Lucky wanted to take credit for their good fortune, but Nathan still insisted it was a simple matter of coincidence.

  Greg wondered if the man was just too old to see the obvious, the way adults failed to hear ghosts in the attic or monsters under the bed, but it seemed unlikely Nathan would overlook something observable when he was so clear about other things that were impossible to know. In any case, Greg was just glad their fortune had improved.

&nbs
p; When the nine travelers arrived back at the valley surrounding the base of the Infinite Spire, Queen Gnarla was quick to greet them, though Greg would have gladly traded speed for a bit of warmth.

  “Where is Our amulet?” the spireling queen snapped.

  “As you already know, Your Majesty, we do not yet have it,” Nathan told her. “Now, I believe we have more pressing matters to discuss.”

  “There is no matter more pressing than the return of Our amulet. You would be wise to remember that, Magician.”

  Several of the surrounding spirelings moved closer and raised their axes. Queen Gnarla began pacing back and forth, talking to herself, which Greg would have thought an odd thing for anyone to do, let alone someone who could carry on a conversation without opening her mouth. Finally she stopped in front of Nathan.

  “We shall discuss this other matter of yours later. For now We are giving you one last chance to seek out this soldier you call Widget. When you find him, you shall retrieve Our amulet and bring it directly to Us.” The queen stopped in midthought and looked at Lucky. “Who is this boy?”

  “I’m Lucky.”

  “Maybe not so much,” said the queen. To Nathan she added, “Does he play a role in this new prophecy as well?”

  “Absolutely,” Greg answered before Nathan could speak. He pulled Melvin close. “And so does this boy here. Why, did you know his brother is one of the most famous dragonslayers on Myrth?”

  Melvin scowled at the rough handling, but was smart enough to hold his tongue. Queen Gnarla looked to Nathan for confirmation.

  The magician shrugged. “If Greg believes these two boys must help him, then I would not disagree.”

  “We see,” said the queen, her jagged teeth drawn into a scowl. She nodded toward Ryder. “And what part does he play in this?”

  “I’m General Hawkins,” said Ryder. “I will be at Greg’s side during the upcoming battle.”

  Queen Gnarla looked him up and down, clearly judging his worth as a soldier. “My condolences. How about him?” she said, nodding at Brandon. “We suppose you’re going to tell Us he, too, has something to do with the prophecy?”

  “Are you kidding?” said Brandon before anyone could stop him. “I’m the one who put it to parchment.”

  “We thought as much. You do not look like a warrior. You are a scribe, then?”

  “I most certainly am,” Brandon boasted, completely overlooking the contempt in the spireling queen’s tone.

  She smiled, though not in a pleasant way. “Your role is indeed an important one.” Brandon’s smile widened, while the queen’s faded to nothing. “However, important as it may have been, it has already been met. Therefore you shall stay here with Us to ensure the others return.”

  “Er—” said Brandon.

  “But I need him,” Greg insisted.

  Queen Gnarla stepped between him and the scribe and stared Greg down. She was shorter than he was, and theoretically female, but one look at her rippling muscles, her razor-sharp teeth and her six-inch claws, and Greg had no doubt who would win in a fight. And that was without factoring in the thousands of Canaraza warriors who stood behind their queen, prepared to die to defend her.

  “Please?” Greg added meekly.

  “We are still not sure what to think of you,” said Queen Gnarla. “It is easy to see how the Mighty Greghart came to be named in the last prophecy, but this next . . . You seem an unlikely hero, especially given you lack the confidence to believe you can succeed without a man such as this.”

  “A true leader knows he is nothing without his followers,” offered Nathan.

  “We were not speaking to you, Magician.”

  “Yet I felt I must intercede—further proof that the boy’s fate is strengthened by having his friends around him.”

  The spireling queen actually laughed out loud. “Very clever. Yet We fear his fate is as strong as it is going to get, because this man,” she said, gesturing toward Brandon, “shall be staying with Us.” A simple nod, and two of her warriors seized Brandon and dragged him away before he could so much as gasp.

  Greg started to object but stopped when he saw Nathan shake his head.

  “Due to the high praise Gnash and Gnaw hold for you,” Queen Gnarla said, “and out of consideration for the fact that you are somehow tied to a prophecy, We shall continue to honor Our agreement, even if you did just lead Us on a wild goblin chase. We are giving you a second chance because We believe you did not know this Corporal Widget was not where you were led to believe, but know that if you fail this time, your fate shall be sealed. Now go. If Our amulet is not back in Our possession at the end of the two weeks, We shall wait no longer.”

  “But there’s no wa—”

  Nathan clamped a hand over Greg’s mouth. “We understand, Your Majesty.”

  “We hope so, for you have already wasted two days, and in exactly twelve more, when the sun reaches its apex, We shall march upon your precious castle.”

  “Naphm, say smphm,” Greg said. He eyed Nathan, waiting for the magician to argue. How could they possibly get to the northern border and back in twelve days without using magic? It was as if Queen Gnarla wanted to exact her revenge on the Army of the Crown.

  But Nathan said nothing, and soon it was time to return to the trail in search of Corporal Widget.

  Harpies

  Greg held his tongue as he and the others prepared to leave a terrified Brandon behind and pick their way through the mass of spireling warriors camped outside the spire. There was really nothing left to say. Brandon had already spent a full quarter hour pleading, trying every possible line of reasoning, but the queen was no more open to debate than Mrs. Alexander had been with Marvin Greatheart back in Pillsbury.

  “Nathan,” Priscilla said as she stepped over a sleeping spireling. “What are we doing? We can’t possibly reach the castle in twelve days. It took three weeks to get back last time, and that was without having to make a side trip to the northern border to get the amulet.”

  Gnash turned abruptly. “The amulet is not a side trip. It is our only concern.”

  “He’s right,” said Nathan. “We must do all we can to reach the northern border as quickly as possible.”

  “How far is it?” asked Greg.

  “Depends. It is a long border. To reach the closest point, under the best of conditions . . . there is a tiny chance a person could make it in about two weeks.”

  Greg felt his hopes draining. “Aren’t there any portals we could use?”

  “None that I know of,” said Nathan.

  “But we don’t have that much time.”

  “You can’t change the prophecy,” said Lucky. “Sure, with me along I can see us making great time and arriving at that spot you’re talking about in only twelve days, and even happening to arrive there at the exact time as General Talbout, but that’s just one half of the trip. We’re supposed to be back to the spire with the amulet before the deadline, remember?”

  “If we can get the amulet, I can use my ring to get back to the spire,” said Greg. “Do you really think Queen Gnarla will cancel the fight if I make it back in time?”

  “Queen Gnarla will remain true to her word,” said Gnaw. “Of that you can be sure.”

  “What if General Talbout isn’t there when we reach the border?” Greg asked Nathan. “Will we be able to reach the castle in three weeks from there?”

  “Why three weeks?” asked Nathan.

  “That’s how long it will take Queen Gnarla to get there from the spire.”

  “Ha,” said Gnash. “Queen Gnarla will take at most three days to reach your castle. Two if she is anxious.”

  “Two days?” said Greg. “Then she really will be there in two weeks. There’s no way to beat her back.”

  “Why not turn around now and use that por
tal Nathan showed us to go back to the southern border?” Melvin suggested. “Then we could go back up through Guttering Torch Caverns and be back to the castle in a week or so.”

  “You’d have to be crazy to hike through Guttering Torch Caverns,” said Nathan. “Besides, that won’t get us General Talbout.”

  “Or our amulet,” Gnaw said.

  “No,” said Nathan, “our only choice is to head north.”

  Greg couldn’t say he was terribly disappointed that they wouldn’t be returning to Guttering Torch Caverns. Still, the odds of success seemed low taking the northern route, even with Lucky on their side. They would have to press hard and hope for miracles.

  Much like with Marvin back in Pillsbury, Brandon’s screams continued relentlessly while Greg and the others hiked up to the ridge bordering the valley, and Greg could still hear Brandon’s voice occasionally drifting upon the wind later, after they’d passed over the first of the mountain peaks to the north. Even so, he was fairly sure the spireling queen’s opinion was not going to change.

  They hiked longer than usual that evening, moving by the light of the eternal torch, until Nathan declared they must stop or risk the magical flame drawing some of Myrth’s more dreaded monsters. Gnash and Gnaw sniffed the air and confirmed his decision.

  Greg was glad to have his bedding back from Marvin, but the lingering stench of trolls made it hard to relax. Judging by the snoring, not everyone shared his problem. He spotted Nathan awake, meditating near the edge of the campsite, and decided to see if the man had a plan. Within seconds, Priscilla, Lucky and Melvin had joined them. Apparently the snoring Greg heard was coming from Ryder alone.

  “Plan?” said Nathan. “I hate to disappoint you, but I have nothing in mind.”

  “Nothing?” said Greg. The spireling guards, with their overly sensitive hearing, jumped to attention, axes at the ready. Embarrassed, Greg apologized and lowered his voice. “How can we make it in time, then?”