How to Save a Kingdom

by Bill Allen

  “See,” Melvin huffed. “Not so easy, is it?” And with that he raised his nose and stormed ahead. Greg couldn’t believe his good fortune.

  Nathan scampered agilely into a very steep ravine and up the other side. Greg followed the magician’s lead, although if he had followed exactly he wouldn’t have landed face down in the mud. This time Gnaw wasn’t paying attention. The spireling rushed forward late and, with a speed only another spireling could match, used his axe to scrape Greg clean before carrying him up the far bank. Greg gasped and spent the next ten minutes counting and recounting his limbs.

  “You okay, Greg?” Lucky asked.

  “I’m fine,” Greg lied.

  “You sure?” said Melvin, trying not to laugh. The boy had rushed back as soon as he heard Greg fall, but Greg had an idea it wasn’t to lend assistance so much as to see Greg laid out in the mud.

  “I said I’m fine.”

  Priscilla looked him up and down. “Oh dear.” She slipped her backpack off her shoulder and began rummaging through it while Greg waited warily to see what she was up to. All day she’d been acting funny toward him, being extra nice for no reason, and the effect was beginning to wear on him.

  “Ah, here we are.” Priscilla pulled out a lace handkerchief and handed it to Greg, as if expecting him to dry off with it. Frowning, he took it by one corner and held it at arm’s length.

  “Well, go on,” she said.

  Greg shrugged and attempted to wipe his face, to which Priscilla furrowed her brow, searched her pack again and this time pulled out a large bedsheet.

  “Hey, I could have used that last night,” said Melvin.

  “Sorry, I didn’t want it to get dirty.”

  Greg took the bedsheet and started walking again, boots squishing, his mud-soaked clothes ten times heavier than before. While Greg dried off, Priscilla asked Nathan what Mordred was like as a kid.

  “Ah,” said Nathan. “You might say Mordred, Hazel and I were kindred spirits, none of us with any family, all eager to learn everything we could about magic.”

  “But Hazel must have been different,” said Melvin. “Why else would she have turned to Dark Magic?” For an instant he slipped in the mud but, much to Greg’s disappointment, caught his balance in plenty of time.

  “Ah, Hazel,” Nathan said. “Well, that’s a hard thing to understand even today. When we met, the three of us were young and naive. We didn’t care what kind of magic we learned, Light or Dark, as long as it was exciting. Oh, and believe me, it was exciting. We traveled the entire land asking people if they knew anyone with special powers. We’d follow every lead, pry out whatever secrets we could. Over the years we learned from every mage, witch and wizard we could find, first in the kingdom, and then in the Styx and even the world beyond.”

  It was clear from the look in Lucky’s eye he was considering adopting the lifestyle for his own.

  “Now, before you start filling your head with a lot of foolish notions,” Nathan said, “you should know that no matter how far we traveled, we were constantly redirected to the one source we’d never bothered to pursue.”

  “Where?” asked Greg. He was somewhat cleaner now and paused to hand the thirty-pound bedsheet back to Priscilla. The princess grimaced and asked Melvin if he wanted it, but even Melvin looked hesitant.

  “Everyone we met agreed the king’s magicians were the strongest force on Myrth,” said Nathan. “After twenty years of searching, we finally returned to Pendegrass Castle to ask if we might join up with King Peter’s staff.”

  “I don’t understand,” said Priscilla. “Father doesn’t allow his magicians to dabble in the Dark Arts. You still haven’t explained what happened to Hazel.”

  “Yes, well, I’m getting to it.”

  They had reached a steep incline, and Nathan had to pause his story long enough to scurry up the bank. He barely reached the top without falling, and Greg and Melvin stared at each other to see who would go next. With a shrug, Melvin scampered up without so much as a bobble, leaving Greg sweating in spite of the cold. He made it up okay, but a slip of his toe caused him to rest his knee on the ground for just an instant. Melvin snickered and stalked away.

  “You okay, Greg?” called Priscilla.

  “I’m fine.”

  Nathan offered the princess a supporting hand. At first she just stared at it, but then she noticed Greg watching and took hold, acting quite the lady as she stepped daintily up the bank. Greg shook his head and followed Melvin. A few yards farther Greg spotted a slippery-looking puddle ahead and adjusted his step so Melvin would have to walk through it. Unfortunately the boy deftly avoided the trouble. Nathan observed the attempt and smiled. “When Hazel approached the king’s magicians,” he continued, “she knew nearly as much magic as many of them. This in itself caused a lot of friction that was hard for all of us to overcome, but in Hazel’s case, she had even more to contend with.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Priscilla.

  “Well, no one could have denied Hazel would have been a huge asset to the staff, but court magician had always been a man’s job and a man’s job only. Women weren’t even supposed to be interested in magic, let alone know anything about it. As soon as Hazel’s powers were discovered, everyone . . . well, they started calling her a witch.”

  Priscilla gasped. Greg avoided eye contact, knowing this was just the kind of thing she might blame on him.

  “Hazel was shunned, at best,” Nathan continued. “Oftentimes worse. Eventually the others drove her away, exiled her into the forest south of the castle.”

  Priscilla emitted a high-pitched noise but looked too angry to express her opinion more clearly.

  “As you might imagine, she was furious,” said Nathan, and it took a moment for Greg to realize he was talking about Hazel, not Priscilla. “Over the years the three of us had learned of many opportunities to advance our capabilities in the Dark Arts, but fortunately we’d had the sense to avoid them. When Hazel was exiled, something inside her snapped. She returned to all those leads we had abandoned, and soon became an expert in areas of magic better left unexplored.”

  “This is unbelievable,” said Lucky.

  “It certainly is,” Priscilla huffed.

  “Perhaps,” said Nathan, “but true.”

  “You were allowed to stay at the castle, though?” Greg asked Nathan.

  “Yes, but it didn’t feel right. Not after all that had happened to Hazel. Mordred, as you know, stayed behind, but I left and continued the same path I’d pursued for years. The two of us communicated through apparitions for years after the split. I filled him in on everything new I learned, and he kept me up-to-date on his experiences in the king’s service. It was a good arrangement for both of us. Combined we learned more than either of us could have uncovered on our own.”

  “But eventually you must have had some kind of falling-out,” said Priscilla. “When you talked to him outside the Infinite Spire, he said you two hadn’t spoken for years.”

  “Mordred was at the Infinite Spire?” Lucky asked.

  “Not exactly,” Priscilla said. “We’ll tell you later.”

  “Without going into too much detail,” said Nathan, “much I knew about the future I never shared with either Mordred or Hazel. I had reason to believe I’d need to learn more about the Dark Arts before all was through. Mordred warned me not to pursue that path—said he could no longer continue our exchanges if I did—but I tried to explain I had no choice. He demanded to know what I was keeping from him, only I knew I shouldn’t tell. So we haven’t spoken since . . . at least not until this trip began.”

  “What was it you couldn’t tell him?” asked Melvin.

  Nathan reached out to run a hand through Melvin’s hair. “Did you really think that was going to work?”

  Melvin grinned and ducked Nathan’s hand. “Ca
n’t blame me for trying.”

  Hart-Stopping Ride

  The rest of the day, Nathan barely shared a word, what with everyone continually begging him to reveal more of his inside knowledge of the future, and Priscilla continued acting strangely toward Greg, creeping him out whenever she was near. Fortunately, Greg had become quite adept at avoiding her. He talked mostly to Lucky instead. Of course, he could have talked to Melvin, tried to befriend the boy, but the idea held little appeal. He was sure he’d heard every possible dragonslayer joke, yet Melvin continued to prove him wrong, no matter how often Greg begged him to shut up.

  “Can we please have a little peace and quiet, Melvin?” Lucky asked that evening by the campfire.

  “That reminds me of a joke,” Melvin said. “How could you tell the dragonslayer was upset about losing his fight with a dragon?”

  “Melvin, please,” said Greg.

  “Because he was all in pieces,” Melvin shouted. He smiled proudly afterward, completely ignoring the groans.

  “How are we doing on our schedule?” Greg called over to Ryder, who was nearby gathering wood for the fire. The general returned to the circle and threw a log on top of the stack, sending a torrent of sparks in the air and the smell of ash into Greg’s nostrils.

  “Not so well, I’m afraid. We’ve actually lost a bit of time today. I’d say we’re making about average time at best.”

  “You’re kidding,” moaned Priscilla. “But we’ve been pushing so hard.”

  Ryder offered her a sympathetic look. “Yes, well, the going’s been a lot tougher in the snow. We’re lucky we haven’t lost more time each day.”

  Greg resisted the temptation to glance at Lucky, who was surely smiling. Nathan walked up to the fire to join the others.

  “Please tell me you’ve come up with a plan,” Ryder greeted him.

  Nathan dropped onto a log next to Greg, rubbed his hands together and held them out near the flames. “I wish I had.”

  “You could still overpower the spirelings, couldn’t you?” whispered Greg. Nathan scowled, but Greg was serious. “I know, I like Gnash and Gnaw too, but there’s a lot at stake here.”

  “I will not harm the spirelings,” Nathan insisted.

  “Can’t you overpower them without hurting them?” Lucky asked.

  Nathan sighed. “Apparently you’re unfamiliar with the power of a spireling mage. You’ve seen the potential of the spirelings when they’re not using their magic. I would think you could imagine the capabilities of one willing to unleash his full power.”

  “But you said you learned all those different kinds of magic,” argued Priscilla. “Certainly you know something you can use against them.”

  Nathan smiled. “I did learn much throughout the years. One thing in particular was to respect the power of a spireling mage.” He observed the glare she gave him and added, “Queen Gnarla is watching our progress through their eyes. If there is a way to defeat them without her knowing, it would not be easy.”

  “But if it comes down to it, you’ll try, right?” asked Melvin.

  “You do know they’re listening, don’t you?” Nathan said.

  Melvin’s face blanched. His skin was still growing whiter as Nathan stood and ambled off into the dark.

  The weather continued to warm overnight, until by morning the temperature sat far above freezing, a phenomenon Ryder assured them had not been seen in these mountains this time of year for nearly a decade. Water began to rain from everything in sight as the snow-covered wonderland began to melt.

  “Lucky for us,” boasted Lucky.

  But the soppy mud that developed was no easier to traverse than the snow had been, and then, with just a few days left before the spirelings were due to storm the castle, the temperature dipped again, creating a coat of ice over everything in sight.

  They were moving along the peaks of the Smoky Mountains, drawing near Death’s Pass, when the general called the group to a halt. The going had become nearly impossible . . . that is until now, when it became completely impossible.

  As Greg remembered it, Death’s Pass was a tunnel that bore straight through the mountainside, providing a natural, easy-to-follow staircase of rock that ran directly from the top of the Smoky Mountains halfway to the bottom. But today they found no tunnel. The normal hole in the rock was plugged top to bottom with solid ice. Nathan walked up and thumped it with his fist. From the sound, Greg guessed the ice was only slightly harder than the rock that surrounded it.

  “Great,” Melvin said, “this is just what we need.”

  “Actually,” said Ryder, “it might be.”

  “Huh?” Greg said. He might have expected Nathan, with his mysterious ways, to say such a thing, but Ryder usually proved pretty normal.

  “I know of only three routes through these mountains,” said Ryder, “around to the east, around to the west, or through Death’s Pass, the usual route since it cuts straight down the center, shaving hundreds of miles off either of the other two options.”

  “Wait,” said Greg. “If we can’t use Death’s Pass, are you telling us we need to go hundreds of miles farther to get to the bottom?”

  “Yes,” said Ryder, excitedly. “I’ve only seen this tunnel iced over once before, but if it’s this bad here, there’s a chance it might be even worse along the western ridge.”

  Greg started to reconsider whether Ryder was really as normal as he’d thought. “And this is a good thing?”

  “It could be. I’m afraid we’ll have no way of knowing until we get there.”

  “What are you talking about?” asked Priscilla. “Get where?”

  “Remember I told you the weather warmed up in these hills once before, about ten years ago,” said Ryder. “It was before I became a captain. I was part of a small scouting team sent to investigate abnormal goblin activity in the area. It had turned horribly cold, just like today, and we’d have been anxious to get back home even if we weren’t out hunting goblins. Anyway, when we arrived at the pass it was completely iced over.”

  “Just like today, too,” said Melvin.

  “Right. Well, soon as we saw it, we knew we had no choice but to go around. We chose to go west, knowing the mountains would have to end within a hundred miles or so, since Bottomless Chasm runs along that side. That’s when we found exactly what we’d been looking for.”

  “Another pass?” said Priscilla.

  “No. Goblins. A huge band of them.”

  Greg scanned the woods to either side of the trail. “Let’s hope that’s not like today . . .”

  “Anyway,” continued Ryder, “we thought if we could just climb down to the lip of Bottomless Chasm we could follow the gap north until it met up with the trail again and not lose too much time. But as it turned out, the mountains to the west were just as icy as the pass had been.”

  “So what did you do?” asked Lucky.

  “Yeah, and what about the goblins?” said Melvin.

  “Well, we were looking for a safe route down the mountainside when the goblins came upon us,” said Ryder. “Our chances looked bleak at best. We were outnumbered a hundred to one and cornered with only one chance of escape. That was to step over the cliff and take our chances on the slippery ice.”

  “Oh my,” said Priscilla. “What happened?”

  Ryder smiled. “Well, I’m here to tell the tale, aren’t I?”

  Greg breathed a sigh of relief. “So you found a safe route, then?”

  “Safe? Not by a long shot. But we did stumble across a shortcut that shaved a full week off our trip back to the castle.”

  “A week? Will it get us closer to the northern border?” asked Greg.

  “It would put us in a place where travel is much easier, yes.”

  “Then why didn’t we go that way to start with?” asked Priscilla. �
��We’ve been looking for a way to save time this whole trip.”

  “I’ve never even heard of a trail to the west,” said Nathan. “How could it have saved you a week when the pass would have put you halfway to the bottom in less than a day?”

  The others buzzed with excitement until Ryder yelled to capture their attention. “Quiet everyone. There are two reasons I never suggested we try the western route. First, it’s not exactly a trail. While Death’s Pass becomes impassable when it freezes, the slope to the west becomes usable only when it’s completely iced over.”

  Greg didn’t understand how that was possible, but what did it matter? “Then we should be in luck,” he said. “Everything’s covered with ice up here today.”

  “Yeah,” agreed the others excitedly.

  “What was the other reason?” Nathan said, raising his voice above the rest. The chatter gradually died away until everyone was staring at him soundlessly. “You said there were two reasons why you didn’t take us to the west from the start.”

  “You’re not worried about running into more goblins, are you?” asked Greg, once again scanning the woods.

  “No,” said Ryder grimly. “It’s not monsters I’m worried about. It’s the trail. There’s a pretty good chance it will get us all killed.”

  “What?” they all cried.

  Once again Ryder had to call for their attention. He tried to explain. “When we looked down, we could see the slope was one solid sheet of ice. We knew if we stepped over the edge we might not stop again until the foot of the mountains. But the goblins had us cornered. We had nowhere to go but down.”

  “Sounds like fun,” said Lucky, “like a giant sleigh ride.”

  Greg remembered his long sleigh ride out of the Infinite Spire and decided it didn’t sound fun at all.

  “It may sound fun,” said Ryder, “but you’re forgetting one thing. The foot of these mountains lies at the rim of Bottomless Chasm. When we started down that slope we had no reason to believe we’d be able to stop at the base. Chances were much better we’d keep right on falling. We fully expected to fly over the edge of the chasm and plunge to our deaths.”