by Robert Bevan
The stairs were textured with decorative patterns of shallow ridges, and Randy was surprised to discover that they weren't slippery at all. He considered that the ridge patterns might have been put there more for practical reasons than style.
Basil groaned when they started up the stairs. He'd likely never experienced this steep an incline in the desert, and new experiences are scary enough when all of one's sensory organs are in working order. Randy and Katherine stroked him on the sides of his neck, reassuring him that it was safe and encouraging him to keep moving. Basil took small, tentative steps, and the ascent was slow-going.
Smaller braziers lit their way up the staircase, resting on ledges carved into the walls. Randy put his hand near the first one to see if the fire was real or not. It was very real, and he continued to put his hand near them as he ascended.
“Hey,” Denise whispered. “You know what this place reminds me of?”
Randy looked back at her, expecting an inappropriate comment about buttholes rather than any useful insight, but he was willing to take that chance. “What's that?”
“That movie about the ice queen.”
Katherine looked hopeful. “Mordred modeled some places in this world on pop culture. Could you be any more specific?”
“I can't remember what it's called. Frizzles or some shit.”
Katherine shrugged. “Maybe it came out after I got sent here.”
“Maybe.” Denise turned to Randy. “You know the one I'm talking about, right?”
“I don't recall.”
“The one about the fuckin' ice princess, what's her name. It had that song everybody was playin' all the goddamn time. Something like, Let me go! Let me gooooo!”
“Are you sure this was a song from a movie?” asked Katherine. “Or are you getting it mixed up with the memory of some kid you were trying to fuck in your squad car?”
“Jesus Christ, will you just let it – Oh wait, that's how the song went.”
“I didn't really get out much,” said Randy. “And I ain't into princess movies quite so much as you.”
Denise huffed. “You know what? Fuck both of you. Here I am trying to be helpful, and I just get shit on from both sides.”
“Alright, fine,” said Katherine. “If this island is based on Frizzles, what can you tell us about the ice princess?”
“She was born a freak of nature. At least, that's how her parents, the king and queen, thought the rest of society would see her, so they locked her in a room and told her to try to stop being such a freak.”
That sounded a lot like Randy's life growing up. “I might have to see this movie if we ever get back.”
Denise rolled her eyes. “Fuckin' queer.”
“You haven't given us much to work with,” said Katherine. “What does any of that have to do with any of this?”
“Her parents died at sea, and she became queen. Then she lost her shit, froze everything, and ran off to live by herself in a palace made of ice.”
Katherine nodded. “Okay, now we're getting somewhere. So how did it end?”
“That's the part that I think might be relevant.” Denise leaned down to whisper. “They melted her frozen heart with love.”
Randy scratched the back of his neck thoughtfully, trying to think of how they might apply that information to their current situation. “So, what you're sayin' is...”
“I know it ain't gonna be easy, Randy, on account of you bein' a faggot 'n all, no offense. But you're gonna need to fuck the evil out of her.”
Randy didn't know what to say. He was conflicted on so many levels. Again, his paladin instincts weren't equipped to answer these kinds of ethical questions. Was it worse to let himself and his friends suffer the wrath of an evil ice queen, or to whore himself out to her in the questionably valid hope that the power of his righteous dong will somehow make her see the error of her ways and repent? Also, did his own sexuality factor into that at all? Would refusing on the grounds that he was gay be selfish or heterophobic of him? These all felt like stupid questions. He turned to Katherine to ask a simpler one.
“What do you think?”
Katherine shrugged. “It certainly feels like a fucked up Hail Mary play, but if Mordred was a fan of this Frizzles movie, maybe there's some merit in it. Only you can decide if you want to go that route or not. If it were me, I guess it would depend.”
“On what?”
“I don't know. What he looked like. Um... his sense of humor?”
“Seriously?” said Denise. “His fuckin' sense of humor?”
“No, not really. I just couldn't think of anything else off the top of my head and I didn't want to sound shallow.”
“Listen, y'all,” Randy whispered urgently as they got close to the top of the stairs. “I'll do what I can, but I can't guarantee that I'll be able to seduce this woman, or that I'll be able to perform to a standard that will change her fundamental beliefs. That's an awful lot to ask really, when you think about it.”
The lead whirlwind passed through the arch at the top of the staircase. Randy disengaged with Basil to follow it.
On the far side of a vast, mostly empty room, a pale, blue-gowned woman sat on a throne of solid ice which looked like it was designed for someone three times as large as she was. In her left hand she held a golden scepter. Its head looked like the sun, with pointed rays radiating out from it. Mounted in the center, eclipsing the sun, was a pale blue stone pulsating with soft light. The Eye of Rasha.
The whirlwind approached her but stopped about ten feet from her.
The woman pointed at the floor to the right of her throne, and the whirlwind moved in next to her, squatting down so that it looked less like a funnel cloud and more like a doughnut made out of wind.
She opened her mouth and made sounds like wind going through a tunnel, to which the whirlwind responded in kind. Their conversation went back and forth like that, like they were speaking an entire language made up of variations of a single vowel.
“Come forward,” she finally demanded of Randy. “My air elemental tells me there are three of you, and some sort of creature?”
Randy sheathed his sword. “That is correct, ma'am.” He sensed strong evil in her, and wanted nothing more than to charge forth and run his sword through her cold wicked heart, but until such time as that became the prudent course of action, he would be polite.
“And yet I see only one. Where are the others?”
Randy glanced back at the empty archway, then turned back to whom he presumed to be the ice queen. “Basil's havin' kind of a rough time getting up the stairs. They'll be along shortly.”
“My name is Elisa Stormbringer, Ice Queen of the Frozen Damned. And to whom do I have the pleasure of – WHAT?” She turned away and shielded her face with her sleeve. After a few seconds, she began to laugh. “It was a good try, I'll give you that,” she continued without lowering her arm. “Many attempts have been made on my life, but perhaps none so bold, brazen, and preposterous as this. I applaud your creativity. It was almost stupid enough to work.”
“I beg your pardon, Miss Elisa,” said Randy. “But I honestly have no idea what you're talking about or what's going on with your arm right now. As a paladin, I'm honor bound to do what I can to kill you, but I must balance that against my duty to protect my friends and do right by them. To that end, I am prepared to offer you the best night of sexual congress that I can provide in exchange for the gem at the top of your scepter and my friends' freedom.”
“Real smooth, Randy,” said Denise. “I know my panties is all sloppy after hearin' that.”
“I feel like two unrelated conversations are taking place,” said the Ice Queen, still hiding behind her arm. “You're blathering about some ill-conceived plot to seduce me, while I'm speaking of the basilisk you escorted into my throne room with which you hope to turn me to stone.”
Randy sighed with the resolution of a big misunderstanding. He, Denise, and Katherine let out brief uncomfortable laughs.
&nb
sp; “You ain't got to worry about Basil. He ain't got no eyes.”
The Ice Queen spoke briefly to her air elemental servant in the strange wind language they shared, then lowered her arm.
“It would appear that you are even more stupid than I gave you credit for. What do you three fools hope to accomplish by invading my island with a crippled basilisk? All you've done is point out a weakness in my defenses which I can now remedy.”
“We ain't much for planning. Basil's just here on account of I didn't feel right leaving him out there alone in the ship.”
“It looks strong enough. I suppose we can use it in the mines. If it doesn't work out, we can always eat it.”
Randy got the distinct impression that neither his offer nor the combined threat of himself, Katherine, Denise, and Basil were being taken seriously. “Now you wait just a –”
“Do any of you have ideas on what kind of work detail you might be best suited for? Do you have any special skills or talents?”
Randy thought about it. “I can heal wounds pretty good.”
“I can split logs,” volunteered Denise.
“Hey, idiots,” said Katherine. “She's talking about slave labor. We didn't come here to apply for jobs.”
The Ice Queen shook her head at Denise. “No, you'll definitely be used for breeding. We have too few dwarves working in the mines.”
Denise's face shook with anger. “I am getting mighty fuckin' sick and tired of folks thinking they can just use me like some kind of fuckin' incubator.”
That caught the Ice Queen's attention. “Is that a frequent occurrence for you?”
“Too fuckin' right it is! I got eight scorpion people babies crawling around inside me right now because some half-bug bitch thought it was okay to just dump a load of fertilized eggs up my cooter. I'd invite you to ask how well that turned out for her, but you can't on account of she's fuckin' dead.”
The Ice Queen turned to Randy. “Dimwitted human who is compelled to speak the truth, is the dwarf truly pregnant with scorpionfolk?”
“She is, and you can call me Randy.”
“When they mature, they'll each be able to do the work of six strong men.”
“The fuck they will!” cried Denise. “Them's my kids you're talkin' about. You so much as lay a finger on one of those freaks, and I'll chop your tits off and sew them together to make a two-nippled ball for them to play with.”
Katherine cringed. “Did that idea occur to you as it was coming out of your mouth, or is this something you've given thought to in the past?”
“I must ponder this,” said the Ice Queen, leaning back in her throne. “What have I done to so please the gods?”
That struck a nerve with Randy. He could take her abuse all day long, but throwing blasphemy on top of it was going too far. And realistically, they weren't going to get a better chance than this anyway. It was four of his group, counting Basil, against two of hers, counting the air elemental. If they didn't act now, while the odds of their success honestly seemed pretty decent, they might as well have not bothered to come.
He drew his sword. “I know one god you ain't pleased!” He ran at her. “In Jesus Christ's name, I smite –”
A blue ray shot out of the scepter she casually pointed at him, and he found himself frozen solid in a cocoon of ice. Having been running at the time, he wasn't in a balanced position, and he fell forward onto his face. Unfortunately, the fall wasn't hard enough to break the ice, but it was plenty hard enough to hurt.
The Ice Queen spoke to her air elemental servant, the language even stranger when filtered through a layer of ice. When they were done, Randy's frozen open eyes could make out Katherine and Basil being led out of the throne room. Shortly after that, he felt himself sliding on the icy floor behind them.
Chapter 48
“And what's in it for me?” said Fuckface, looking smugger than Cooper thought his current situation warranted.
“The fuck are you talking about?”
“You're asking me to betray the Dark Lord, who has promised me an enchanted weapon for my services. It only makes sense that you'd have to offer me something better in exchange for my betrayal.”
“Listen here, you little shitbag,” said Chaz. “You don't seem to understand how negotiation works. In order for –”
Cooper raised his hand to silence Chaz. “I think I know a way to explain this better. Give me that bag of snacks you took from the pixie sled.”
Chaz handed over the pickle bucket-sized burlap sack.
“You want any?” asked Cooper, offering the open bag back to Chaz.
“Not right now.”
Cooper turned to Fuckface. “You?”
Fuckface shrugged, then reached into the sack and pulled out a handful of nuts and raisins.
“Ravenus?” said Cooper, holding the bag up toward the tree branch Ravenus was perched on. Ravenus squawked back incomprehensibly.
When everyone had taken as much as they wanted, Cooper tilted his head back and upended the bag, pouring the entirety of its contents into his mouth.
“What the fuck, man!” cried Chaz.
Cooper regretted going for it all in one mouthful. Chewing that many raisins and nuts at once was exhausting. He could feel sticky drool running down his chin. And now fucking Chaz wanted to engage him in conversation.
“I acku iffu wassum,” he responded.
“What?”
Cooper got his chewing a little more under control. “I asked you if you want some.”
“And I said not right now.”
“Then what the fuck are you bitching at me for?”
“That's all we've got to eat. We were supposed to ration that until we made it out of here.”
Cooper swallowed, and was relieved to not be chewing. “You gave me an idea. I needed the bag.” He turned the empty snack sack inside-out, slipped it over his hand and forearm like a big thumbless mitten, then reached under his loincloth and dug as deep into his ass crack as he could without tearing the bag.
“You learned how to wipe?” said Chaz. “Congratulations. Did you just level up?”
“Wiping is just phase one.” When Cooper felt he'd adequately soiled the inside of the bag, he pulled his hand out of his ass and stood straight.
“You said something about me having inspired this brilliant idea of yours?”
“Yeah,” said Cooper, pulling the bottom of the bag out through the rim so that his ass residue was properly on the inside. He smirked down at Fuckface, who'd been staring curiously at him while he wiped his ass, but who now seemed to be one step ahead of Chaz with regard to knowing what Cooper had in mind.
“Nooo–”
Cooper pulled the bag down quickly over Fuckface's head and pulled the drawstring tight so the mouth of the bag bunched around his neck. He grinned at Chaz. “You called him shitbag, remember?”
“It wasn't a bad idea,” said Chaz. “But I don't know if it was worth using up the last of our food.”
Fuckface was screaming and crying and clawing at Cooper's arm until Cooper gave him a quick little warning jab in the face.
“Knock that shit off,” he said. “Nod if you can understand me.”
Fuckface nodded.
“We need you to take us to the Dark Lord.”
Fuckface nodded.
“In exchange, we're prepared to offer you the opportunity to never have to wear this bag on your head again.”
Fuckface nodded.
“What you're experiencing right now is about a Category 2. When all those raisins kick in, we might be looking at a Category 9 or 10. You're really not going to want the bag on your head after that. I'm not sure you'd survive it. Do you understand?”
Fuckface nodded.
“It's going to be textured with little chunks of nuts as well.”
The bag bulged out in front as Fuckface threw up. Nut-textured vomit dribbled out the tightened mouth of the bag and ran down his neck and chest.
“And then there's that. The point
that I'm trying to drive home here is that it's not going to be pleasant. Do you feel I've driven that point home well enough?”
Fuckface nodded.
Cooper let go of the drawstring, and Fuckface's collected puke gushed down his chest and pooled at his feet. “Shall we proceed?”
Fuckface wiped vomit off his chin with one arm and tears from his eyes with the other, then nodded.
“On second thought,” said Chaz, “I think this might be worth possibly starving to death.” His eyes went wide. “I just realized who Fuckface reminds me of. This is just like those Lord of the Rings movies, when Frodo and Sam got followed around by that little gremlin guy. What was his name? Snuggles?”
Cooper's memory of the character's name was blocked by Chaz having asked the question. He was willing to bet a testicle that it wasn't Snuggles, though.
“We're the two unlikely heroes,” Chaz continued. “On a dangerous quest, beating the odds and barely clinging onto our lives, about to be led into a dark and evil place by a little gremlin who'd much rather see us both dead. Fuckface is our Snuggles!”
“Whatever, dude,” said Cooper. “I'm still calling him Fuckface.”
We're nearly on top of Morning Glory Hole. My blades thirst for the blood of the Dark Lord, and you speak this inane nonsense.
“Shit, sorry.” Cooper turned to Chaz. “Nabi's getting impatient. You ready to check out the Dark Lord's Glory Hole or whatever?”
Chaz sighed. “Absolutely not. But as it looks like I don't have much choice, I'm ready to have this whole ordeal behind me.”
“Alright, Fuckface. Lead the way.”
It only took about ten more minutes of walking before the trees were absolutely covered in dead or dying morning glory vines. It was probably very pretty when the plants were healthy.
Indeed, this is one of my favorite places in the forest. I would often while away hours at a time, lost in my thoughts and the sweet smell of the flowers.
“It kind of smells like old pee right now.”
The forest is dying, all of its life being absorbed into the Dark Lord. If we don't end his life now, who knows how much devastation he'll be capable of rendering? Not just in Glittersprinkles Grove, but in the world outside it as well. Those who thirst for this kind of power are seldom content to reign over chipmunks and birds.
