by Zari Reede
She eyed Sammy while assuring us. I wondered if there could be any true safety from a necromancer.
“My scouts reported him in route to the castle where Rapunzel was held, and I sent word there, but I fear it will be too late. The only thing on our side is time. The necromancer cannot move quickly with his legions of bones. He is focused on retrieving his apprentice and will let nothing stand in his way. I do fear that, unless the witch returns, and has grown in her ability to wield spells of a massive strength, this castle may be nothing but rubble tomorrow. We may have to run in eternal retreat. There is no way for our physical strength to slay what is already dead. It is for the council to wage this war and aid our rescue. Go with the king and his men, and pray for us all.” Fjodes eyes flickered with worry, as her form stood strong.
She needed no further flak from me. I hugged Sammy tight, following the king and his men from the throne room. Sammy wiggled from my grasp, as she insisted on getting down. She hit the floor with a solid thump. Though her sneakers squeaked out a rhapsody, with a stately bearing she approached the queen. Her little curtsey made me smile, and I wondered at my daughter’s courage. In the face of danger, before a very tall woman with one eye, this must be a grand dream or adventure to her, and it was apparent she was enjoying every minute of it. Must take after her mother. A hand clamped over my heart. I missed Mindy more than words could say, and I could only hope we would all be pulled from this nightmare and reunited soon.
Sammy bid the queen to lean close, and whispered in her ear. I had been privy to these whispers before, so I knew this was a declaration of Sammy’s heart--not a request for a PB&J. The queen kissed Sammy’s cheek and smiled. Sammy ran back to me, held my hand, and we continued to exit the grand room with heads held high and a sense of optimism. I truly hoped to see Queen Fodjes again. Bet she’s a hoot when she lets her hair down. Mindy would have loved her.
Sammy’s face was grim as the Cyclops readied the horses. I wanted to jolly her out of the untypically solemn mood. Nudging her, I bent to whisper. “Hey, check it out. We’re hangin’ with the king.” I put on my best Elvis impression and sang “You Ain’t Nothing but a Hound Dog.”
I ended with a nifty swivel of my hips, and bowed. “Thank you. Thank you very much.”
She giggled and lightly shoved me. “Daddy! He is royalty, like Queen Elizabeth. Stop being a goof.” My daughter, the dimpled diplomat. Her smile flattened as she squinched her eyebrows together. “I will miss the queen. I liked her. She played with me and was very nice.”
I hugged her close. “I like her too. I hope we get to see her again before we leave.”
“Dad, when are we going to leave? I bet Mommy and Grandma miss us.”
“I’m sure they do, Sammy. We miss them heaps too. As soon as I can figure out the transportation system, we are so outa here.” I picked her up, twirled her around and set her on the ground. She tittered and wobbled, a bit dizzy. The little Cyclops girl, Nostril, ran up and gave Sammy a big hug, then went all bashful. Her attendant followed at a more sedate pace.
“Queen Fodjes, she wants us to go too. She thinked it easier for the little ones,” the attendant explained in her broken English.
I grinned, trying to put the Cyclops babysitter at ease. “That Fodjes is the queen of all queens.”
She motioned for me to follow. “Let me show to the wagon ours.”
We each picked up our charges. The girls were thrilled to see one another, but yawning like crazy. I followed her to an enormous wagon. It reminded me of the caravan that Professor Marvel--in The Wizard of Oz--had, but much, much bigger. Thankfully the oxen, possibly the same ones I rode earlier, were equal to the task of pulling it. The attendant pulled down a small stair, strode up the steps, flung open the door, and gestured for us to precede her.
“Since we’re going to spend this time together, what would you like me to call you?” I guess I used too many words because she shook her head with a puzzled expression on her face. I thumped my chest and said, “Jim.” Next, I patted Sammy’s head. “Sammy.” I pointed to the Cyclops girl. “Nostril.” The Cyclops both chortled at my pronunciation. I pointed to the attendant and tried to look quizzical.
“Daddy? Are you okay? Does your tummy hurts?” Sammy said concerned.
Before I could reassure her, the Cyclops lady said, “Aha!” then patted her chest. “S’nik.”
“Sonic, it is. Let’s get this show on the road, shall we?”
I put Sammy down on the stairs so she could walk up on her own and climbed into the wagon with her.
Chapter 32
Mindy
I stared dumbfounded at the sketch of my comic book likeness, and somewhere in the back of my mind, I knew I wanted to get a boob job and blonde highlights. Did that make me shallow? Of course it did! I was Mindy Nichols, Detective of ISMAT, wonderful daughter, wife, and mother--and my breasts were fine the way they were. I mean are. Anyway, Jim had never complained, so why fix something that is not broken? I fumed at my own self-conscious female doubts. While the camera panned across St. Charles Avenue again, I caught a glimpse of Mom and Winni. “Mom, Winni,” I said.
“They aren’t actually there,” ’Punzel chimed in, dully inspecting a broken nail. “As you have been watching this...” She paused, drawing an imaginary circle around the TV and searching her mind for a word to describe it.
“Television,” I supplied.
“Tele-vishun,” she enunciated. “These are past events. That’s me, but I’m no longer there, so it must be a past-vision.” She made a play on the word. “Utterly useless! What good is the past when we hurtle toward the future?” She looked pointedly at me with one arched brow. Not a bad way to think.
“Because, smarty pants,” I shot back. “Since Mom, Winnalea, and the prince are nearby, trying to contact them at my apartment would be a moot point.” I brushed my hands together in the universal Take that! “Mom’s old friend, Harry Meltzer, the ex-head of ISMAT followed Mom in his own car. They may be at Harry’s plantation by now,” I continued, matter of fact. “I can call the operator to reach him, but first, let’s check the phone book.”
I dug into the drawers near the kitchen phone and plopped the large phone book on the sunflower-yellow Formica. “If anyone can help us, it is Harry. He is an advocate for peaceable restraint of ORBs to study their visits without harm. He theorized there is a reason for the Blinks and the visitors arriving in the state they do--of course, he got fired for it. People thought he was cuckoo. Since the purple imps and Winnalea arrived in my apartment, and now you, I tend to agree with him. You aren’t the best example with your fire-throwing temper tantrums, but you do speak proper English and seem to understand mostly that you can’t just go around destroying things.”
I was rambling to myself more than Rapunzel, as I turned the pages of the phonebook. My fingers found Meltzer, Harry P. and I dialed the number. The phone rang again and again with no answer. I sighed in frustration. Typical for my day. Mom drove the Fury, so ’Punzel and I would be on foot. I tore the address from Max’s phone book and stuffed it in my pocket.
Miffed, ’Punzel glared at me.
“Oh, don’t take it so personally. I admit we all wish at one time or another we could blow up the world. Unlike most of us, you can.” I started toward the door, when I saw Max’s helmet and motorcycle keys on the entry table. Bingo! I had taken a tutorial from Max on his Triumph Bonneville in the Schwegmann’s parking lot one afternoon at lunch. One down, five up, I reminded myself. It wasn’t terribly hard, I just had to point it north out of town.
Leaving through the door this time, we made our way to Max’s parking space. Doubting my sanity as ’Punzel saddled up behind me, I instructed her to hold on tight. She was begrudging being led along like a puppy, but I could tell, by the few smiles she couldn’t smother, she was really enjoying her vacation from Ortharos. Maybe she wasn’t aware of the DOA status of most ORBs when they returned to her world. They say ignorance is bliss, so let her be happy and h
ope we make it to Harry’s all in one piece.
“Where is my fancy hat?” ’Punzel tapped the helmet I wore.
“Can’t your hair protect your head?” I tried to remember how to get started and realized I should probably wheel it out of the tight corner it was wedged in first. Apparently, Max shared his parking place. More likely, some hot chick shared her space with Max.
“I want a hat like yours.” ’Punzel’s pout trumped Sammy’s, but I was a pro at resisting pouts.
“Hop off for moment and let me wheel this out.”
“You made me get on and now I have to get off. And I don’t have a hat!”
Her bottom lip stuck out so far that the freaking helmet could have fit on it.
“Fine! You can wear the helmet!” I knew I shouldn’t yell, but, not being a biker, I shuddered at the thought of riding the thing. I hopped off the Triumph and scowled.
She studied the handle bars and glanced over the motorcycle.
“Doesn’t look so hard.” Rapunzel eyed the bike with glowing interest. A spark shot out of the ignition switch, she revved the Triumph and sped out of the lot and toward the street. As I ran after the motorcycle, I saw her hair curl and shrink around her head until it resembled a helmet with pink flowers.
Damn it all! Now I had to catch the ORB, before ISMAT spotted her and she doomed us all. I grabbed the nearest ride, a girl’s Strawberry Sizzler Huffy bike complete with training wheels that lay against a dingy gray stairwell. Sammy received one from Santa last Christmas. Though cramped, I straddled it. As I peddled hard out of the lot and down the avenue, the pink streamers hanging from the handle bars fluttered. Rapunzel circled back my way. Frantic to stop her, I waved and one of her flowers raised and waved back as she buzzed past. Crap! She was playing with me. I thought of her as an ill-mannered teen, but she behaved like a child. The 750cc of power she was revving up and down the neighborhood was too much for an irresponsible ORB. I predicted disaster at the end of her tyrannical joyride.
Blondie looked back and giggled. As she thumbed her nose at my Huffy, she hit the median with a thump. The Triumph endoed and she sailed into a huge azalea bush which, thankfully, broke her fall without breaking her neck. ‘’Punzel sat up. Her hair unfurled into limp tendrils around her as she shook her head.
“Are you all right?” I rushed over to help her. Broken branches clung to her hair, or her hair clung to the branches, either way, she looked well chastened.
“Zoinko!” She swayed as she stepped from the curb. “That was...” She stumbled and grasped me for support, looking at me in awe. “How do you say, the most free I have ever felt in my life?”
“Wow! Awesome! Bam! Cool!” I paused and made her sit down in the grassy area. “Is that what ‘zoinko’ means?”
“Yes. It’s very, cool,” she said, trying out her new word. “We have mounts to ride on Ortharos, but they are not as fast as Triumph. Liotte never allowed me to ride my steed farther than his magic barrier. I would like very much to ride Triumph again.”
“Great! But this time, maybe you should let me drive?” I looked at her woozy form as she nodded in agreement.
She smiled like a child willing to share. “Okay, we can take turns.”
The ride out to Harry’s plantation took about twenty minutes. We swept through winding country roads lined with grand live oaks and cypress trees. Thick clumps of Spanish moss clung to the canopies curtaining the branches. The temperature was cool. I had snagged Max’s bomber jacket from his apartment, but found it unnecessary with Rapunzel’s glowing heat. As we dipped and swayed she fell into a fit of giggles, radiating energy from her core. Whenever my nose and hands chilled, I turned the throttle and Rapunzel heated us both. I was careful not to over excite her for fear of being deep-fried.
When we reached the plantation home, I drove around the circle drive and parked in the newly-built barn. I told Rapunzel to stay put, not trusting her with Winni or the prince. She had become more rational over the hours I spent with her, but her behavior was still erratic. Using the bike as a reward for staying put, I told her she could drive next if she stayed in the barn until I returned. She nodded and plopped down on a wooden bench under a series of bridles. Harry must suit up his horses in here.
As I approached the house, I saw Mom and Harry through the porch window engaged in a deep discussion over tea. I tapped on the glass and waved. They both startled, then smiled. My mother held her finger over her mouth, alerting me to refrain from making further noise and then pointed to the floor, where the sleeping prince lay. I nodded and went to the door which Harry opened with a smile and waved me in.
“Why aren’t you at work? I saw you vanish at the Lucky Dog stand on St. Charles. What was that all about?” Mom fussed at me in hushed tones.
“Easy, Mom. One thing at a time. I’ll tell you everything, but first I need to talk to Harry about the ORB I am harboring in his garage.”
Chapter 33
The Brownie
Serving good food to a hungry bunch boosts a brownie’s contentedness beyond count. I baked eggs ’n such, which is called a crust-less quiche here, found lovely pickles in the freezalator, and dried fruits in the larder. Thank goodness there were more of those po-tae-toe chips to fill up the chinks in yon growing Cyclops. He seemed a happy lad and adjusting well to the Blink.
I was taking the dirty dishes to the sink and, in a flash, there I was, back in the larder at the castle again. On the flagstones, of my former most beloved spot in the keep, a trap had closed on a giant rat. Rats! In MY larder! Well, I never. “Blink for a thrice and look what happens,” I muttered to myself. I could not leave such a mess and sped to tidy. It was imperative I check on Princess Rapunzel.
She was nae in the tower, but the most trusted maid of Princess Phrysia sat on the window ledge, crying in her apron.
“I thought she was Princess Phrysia!” she wailed and blew her nose on the last clean bit of cloth.
“Hush your mewling! Where are the princesses?”
“I don’t know!” she wailed.
I heard a fey sound, like dice clattering. The maid, though larger than I, cowered behind me. The clattering became louder, and then skeletal fingers appeared at the sill. The bones gripped hard as a grinning skull with drying flesh on it appeared. A figure shrouded in a gray cloak arose behind the nightmarish skeleton. A barefoot stepped on the head, and the skull’s teeth clipped shut. The towering, gray clad figure lowered his cowl.
“Necromancy, blasphemy,” the maid whispered and made the sign of the evil eye.
The voice of the necromancer bellowed, “Where is my Rapunzel?”
The maid fainted at the sound of his voice and my ears--they bled.
This was bad, very bad. While Rapunzel and Phrysia were away studying their arts, unbeknownst to any, I visited them. Every half moon, I popped over to chitty chat and drink a wee cuppa before bed time.
I worried so about Princess Rapunzel. So many nights the poor lass barely spoke, so overcome with exhaustion. She would even doze off and dribble my special tea on her gown. I asked her to ken the what’s what of it, but she lauded the necromancer and swore he did his best to mold her into the most powerful sorceress of all ages. When her mind seriously twisted, and I understood naught, I visited in secret. I still have sleepmares of it, I do, so horrible was the necromancer’s methods.
I could nae break the bewitching spell he wove over the princess. Stiffening my spine, one eve I visited Himself. Himself I name him because his own self is all that matters to him.
His spells slid off me as had always Rapunzel’s, and it vexed him to no end, but he tried to act as if it not. Curious about me, he was. He had nae experience with the brownies. He wanted to study me, to see how I resisted him and the ways of my transportation magic. Neither he nor the Princess Rapunzel can travel instantly from one place to another and he hated this lack.
He viewed me simple and this I allowed, but then the clever brownie tricked and trapped Himself as I trap trespassi
ng nuisances in my larder. I did not tell Rapunzel of this. Merely that her training was finished, and she needed to come home. I knew she was confused but had not realized how much the madness gripped her.
Himself’s accusing tone rattled me wee bones, “You stole her from me and entrapped the two of us, but she escaped and came to me. Thinking me dead, she did not realize I was bespelled. How thoughtful of you, arranging me in my ancestral catacombs. The spell was broken when she plucked a single petal from the rose you gave me. Though no longer tranced, it took time for me to find my inner power to wake, so she left, believing me dead.”
When the necromancer stepped down into the tower, a skeleton dragged itself over the sill, then another and another until the tower near filled with bones.
“Princess Rapunzel escaped?”
He stroked his cadaver-white chin. “So, you did not know. How intriguing. I have a need of you, but not the dithering wench.” He snapped his fingers and the skeletons sped to grab me. I nae saw what they did to the maid, but she screamed a very, very long time. The dead begrudge the living and the vile things relish torture.
Chapter 34
The Witch
Though tempting, I couldn’t leave Detective Arbor with the council, so he accompanied me to the palace, where we appeared in my bed chambers.
“Is that some sort of capsule or pill you’re tossing each time you transport?”
“I do not know what a pill is. I used a spell-imbued clay ball for our transportation. When one breaks open, its spell is activated. The transportation spell is very useful, but the process to prepare it is taxing. I usually rely on the typical modes of transportation or transform myself.” Fascinated by my magic, he followed me to my spells pantry. I pocketed more potions and slapped his hand when he reached for one.
