by Zari Reede
“Move!” ’Punzel cried out, as I was launched into a nearby stone pillar.
A shot ricocheted off the column above my head and the quartet scattered. ’Punzel ramped up her fire as sparks flew from her fingertips, and she spewed a short arch around the cylinder pole we stood behind. The double doors behind us flew open and agents were posed, ready to pour through, but ’Punzel sprayed flames in their direction. The heavy metal door immediately slammed shut just before ’Punzel’s fire fell short and petered out.
“You could have fried them?” I asked, wondering why she hadn’t.
“Why waste the energy? They are all babes.” She made a sound of disgust. “They only needed a little scare. Now what?” she asked, looking around and assessing the enemy.
“Grlecc, Sir Reggie!” I called out across the through way. The prince’s one eye peered through the large green fronds of a fern. Sir Reggie was nowhere in sight and I wondered what place he might be soiling.
“Harry,” I called out and then remembered my walkie-talkie. I pressed the transmit button, and hoped he had released his. After a crackle, a rushed voice said, “Hold on! It’s a mistake. That was an unauthorized shot by a rogue agent!”
“How do you know?” I asked. The hostility in my voice echoed throughout the corridor.
“The chief was just as surprised as we were. He is coming on line now.”
The overhead intercom buzzed, before the chief’s voice boomed, “Stand down! All agents are to stand down. Any fire or attack on Detective Nichols or her...” Chief paused, “...guests will be considered a breach of duty and seen as an attack on ISMAT. Place all weapons on the ground and step back two paces. Agent Nichols, you have my sincerest apologies, and I would like you to proceed to the meeting.” The intercom squeaked as he let the button go.
I wasn’t sure who to trust, but all visible agents dropped their weapons and stood back. I wasn’t foolish enough to think we were just going to skate in and out of here, with no consequences, but I found it hard to take the first steps from safety.
Sir Reggie popped out wearing an ISMAT agent’s army-green beret set off-kilter on his fine, golden head. Sporting an enormous grin, he skidded out in his yellow slippers, to the middle of the arched hallway. He carried two ISMAT issue nine-millimeter pistols and pointed at the ceiling. ’Punzel and yelled.
“Stop!” I said.
“Go Reggie!” ’Punzel shouted, following up with an unladylike whistle, that I was sure Mom taught her, since I had heard it every LSU game of my life.
Reggie stopped dead and assessed the stoic faces lining the balcony.
“Well, it’s no fun if they are just going to stand there.”
His mouth drooped like a boy whose balloon popped. I took in a deep gulp of air and headed out with my own arms splayed. I didn’t have a white towel to wave, and I hoped that the agents not reacting to Reggie’s shenanigans meant that they would continue to stand down.
Chapter 55
The Witch
Studying the wall, I memorized as many details as I could, hoping once we levitated high enough, we could climb using the breteches and arrow slits. The strain on the spell would be lessened, yet aid us to make the climb easier.
“I’ve done my share of mountain climbing, but I’ll miss the safety harness.” Max turned from the wall and appraised my form. I willed myself to meet his eyes. Before I could protest, he bent down, gripping the bottom two tiers of my gown and tore.
I grabbed at his hands, but the damage was already done. “What are you doing?” I hissed.
“No way can you climb with those ruffles, Princess.” He spun me and finished what he had started. Frowning, I stepped out of the circle of material. Max stood back appraising my bare legs. He grinned and waggled his eyebrows. “Great gams.” When he saw I didn’t understand, he added, “Your legs are so sexy, Phrysia, that I am tempted to say screw Liotte and let’s screw.”
“H--How d--dare you?” I sputtered.
“Like this,” he said, as he pulled me into his arms and kissed me. He released me after a few heated moments, and I drew a deep breath. “Now, we better scale that wall, Princess.”
I weakly nodded, slipped the cracked, leaking pill into my mouth and chewed. Wincing at the bitterness, I paused long enough for the potion to take effect, then concentrated on my desire to levitate myself and Max. His strong hand grasped mine and we ascended. Once we were high enough to have hand holds, Max proved himself to be a gifted climber. I felt the spell slightly wax as it no longer needed to support him. Despite this, it was much weakened from the strain of lifting us so far. I tried to lessen the pull by climbing, but my slippers slid on the stones. Agile as a young imp, Max was up and over the top, standing on the ramparts.
“Come on, Phrysia, you can do it,” he whispered. Then the spell failed. As I fell, one leg slipped into an archer’s slit. I bent my knee, jerking to a halt, and hung upside down by one leg. My dress draped around my head exposing the pink silk pantaloons which Max found so amusing. Worse, Max grunted in pain.
“Max!” I called out.
“Kinda busy.” There was another horrible crash. “Got a skeleton set on killing me.”
“Take off its head!” I cried out.
After an agonizing wait, I heard a horrible crack, then a moment of silence. The blood was rushing to my head and my leg hurt so much that I wanted to scream, but my one thought was, Please, please, please, let him be safe. Then the skeletal legs of one of Liotte’s minions hung over the wall. I sighed with relief when Max leaned over, and I saw him, his face, bloodied, yet alive.
“Can you reach the bones?” He asked.
I tensed my abdomen, sitting up as if in a chair, and grasped the bony ankles. The creation had long been dead and had no flesh. No doubt, Liotte brought the most rotten corpses with him to horrify his enemies. My arms ached as I rose. When my leg came out of the shaft, I bit my lip until blood flowed. It hurt so much, I feared it may be broken. As soon as his hands reached me, Max held me and hugged me so hard that my ribs creaked.
“Don’t you ever scare me like that again,” he whispered, scattering butterfly kisses on my face. I sat on the wall, and he pulled back to search my pale green, pain-drawn face. “You’re hurt.” I nodded, unable to speak and gestured to my leg. I saw beyond his shoulder, the skull. He noticed. “I braced it in the corner then twisted the a-hole’s head off.”
“Good. Now we need to destroy the rest of these undead a-holes.”
Max’s lips quivered at my use of his slang. He hugged me close again. “Don’t make me laugh, woman.”
I took a deep breath. Duty, I told myself. “We need to get to the necromancer’s lair.”
Max placed his hand on my leg. I pushed it off.
“Let me see how bad it is.” He touched me again and this time I allowed him to probe my knee. I gritted my teeth and tried not to cry. “Nothing’s broken, I think,” he said, “but it’s at least a bad sprain--maybe a torn meniscus. Can you walk?”
He helped me down from the wall. As soon as I put weight on my leg, I cried out in agony. He caught and perched me back on the wall. “I think we need to abort this mission, Princess.”
“I don’t understand.”
“You are in no condition to face Liotte’s undead. I can’t fight, carrying you.”
“I don’t need carrying,” I protested.
He took my hands in his. “Yes, you do.”
I knew he was correct. I had been overconfident and now paid the price. If we quit, I let my people down, Ortharos, and his planet. Max grasped my chin and tilted my head, forcing me to meet his eyes.
“Hey, you’ve done everything possible. Don’t you dare kick yourself about making the smart decision to retreat.”
“We should at least explore. Then we can give others news of what to expect so they can avoid danger as much as possible. We need to evaluate and assess and find weaknesses and--”
He placed a finger over my lips to silence me. “Tell yo
u what, Princess. We attempt to find Liotte’s lab or lair...wherever he does his creepy undead magic.” I smiled. “But I will scout ahead,” he continued. “If it’s clear, I will come and carry you to the next safe spot I have found. We will do this until we meet a force too great for me to dispatch or--” He smirked and pinched my rear. I eeped. “--that cute tush of yours gets too heavy for me to tote. Deal?”
I nodded. Few undead barred our way. Liotte seemed to have taken the vast majority of his minions to pillage. Max only needed to dispatch four undead. Finally, we came to the lowest floor. Three large skeletons armed with sabers guarded the door.
“Evil Death Doctor does his nasty experiments in his creepy dungeon lab. I should have known.” Without a handy seat, Max leaned me in the corner of the doorway. Heedless, with a roar, he descended on the guards. Max twisted one’s head off so fast that I don’t even know if the creature understood what occurred. He sent one skeleton smashing into a suit of armor, causing a tapestry to fall from the wall onto its skull. He grappled with the other, which topped him by half a head. I limped carefully closer. The skeleton shook off the pieces of armor and ripped the tapestry to bits. Gripping the great sword, the suit of armor held, the creature tugged it out of its grasp.
Moving faster than any undead I had ever seen, it rushed Max.
“Max!” I screamed.
The creature turned. I scrabbled in my cloak. There had to be a potion I could use. Max heard my call and battled to destroy the undead. The first, leaking capsule I threw burst when it hit the creature’s chest but had no effect except to dampen its rib bones. Panicked, my fingers closed around another capsule which I plucked from my pocket. I beheld it in the palm of my hand then threw it at the creature, just as Max snapped his nemesis’s backbone then twisted its head loose. The creature, which faced me, vanished.
“What the hell did you do?” Max asked, astonished.
“I transported it.”
“Where?”
“I sent him to the council chambers.” I couldn’t help but giggle at the sight of his grin.
We found the door unlocked. Max tugged it open. “Stay.”
I was impatient, but he was right. He snuck in. The wait seemed an eternity.
“It’s unoccupied. There are some really weird things in here.” He swept me into his arms, carrying me in. The room’s main function was clear. While there were other odd objects whirring and clicking, creatures hooked up to tubes and such filling the perimeter, the majority of the space was taken up by what must be Liotte’s masterpiece.
“Those look like two huge copper water heaters,” Max said. He sat me in a chair by a table and circled the device. “And in between...what is that ball?” He looked at me and pointed.
I shrugged not knowing. My eyes locked on the apparatus, as I tried to discern its function.
“It reminds me of something I saw in a museum, a plasma orb,” Max commented.
A sphere of purple sat in the center between the two copper devices. Wavy lines, ranging in color from the lightest yellow to a dark orange stretched out from the orb, streaming into openings at the sides of the cylinders. Strange levers, gauges, and dials adorned the front of each of the odd towers. A bed-like device with manacles sat beneath the strange sphere.
Dried blood dappled the head of the platform. I grew sick. What had Liotte done to my sister? Suddenly, there was a horrible tearing sound. A space above one of the cylinders cracked, like an egg. From the opening, an odd, swirling, gray substance was pulled into the open air. The gauges on the cylinders fluctuated wildly as a hissing spittle spew from the top.
“Damn, what the hell is it?” Max rushed to me, his eyes never leaving the contraption and held my hand.
My ears felt full. My hearing grew muffled. It was as if I was under water. I tried to squeeze his hand, but I could barely move. When I spoke, my voice sounded odd.
“Liotte must be using this to obtain power. We need to destroy it.”
Max picked me up and carried me to the farthest corner of the vast room. The distance from the device helped. My senses returned.
“Okay, that messed with me, but it hit you hard. What happened?” he asked.
“I am not sure. I believe Rapunzel was a key part and since she left, the device is having difficulties.” At that moment, there was a high-pitched creak and the odd orb shimmered and swelled. The inside filled with multiple striated lines of power.
A weak chitterling drew my attention. A young imp lay strapped in a box. Because of its indigo eye color, I knew it was a girl--boys’ eyes were red. Strange tubes ran from her body. The odd quake disrupted the apparatus hooked to the imp. The imp squealed in pain.
“Max, help me.” I gestured to the table.
He picked me up again, and I buried my face in his shoulder. This mode of travel is better than my potions by far. He lowered me and remained with one arm around my waist to support me. The apparatus had gears that held capsule spells in each niche. When the device worked, the gears spun and intermittently dropped a spell on an imp, lying on a cot. Since imps are capable of teleportation, yet this one was still here, the spell must be hampering its abilities.
The gadget shuddered, then with a screech, stopped. The imp opened her eyes, blinked, then chirped. When I was young and ignored, I often visited the nursery, where imp-keepers raised and trained our messengers. I was fond of the wee purple youth and Head Keeper Piper said I was gifted with the ability to interact with them. I chattered and showed her my hand. Her eyes widened, but she did not flinch, so I stroked the fur on her cheeks. Max kept his distance and was silent. My Max is a perceptive man. My Max? I shook my head, and the movement startled the imp. She squawked and tensed, but I smiled and touched her gently.
“Hello. I am Princess Phrysia. I am here to free you, little one.”
The poor imp tried to sit up but collapsed.
“Find some food and water.” As Max searched, I helped the imp sit. “How are you called, little one?”
“Yon Yon.”
Max returned with a flask.
“Where did you get this?”
“There is a room just behind that.” He pointed. “Had a cot, food, water, and this.”
He handed me a box with a few healing spells and strips of cloth for bandages. I drank one and sighed as my knee began to mend. I opened the flask and smelled. Then I wetted my finger with the contents and touched my tongue. The imp Yon Yon watched. I sighed. “Water.” I held the flask to Yon Yon’s mouth. She nodded as I tilted the contents and she gulped.
“Not too much,” I cautioned.
Chapter 56
Jim
“Hey, do you have a name?” Know thy enemy, I figured.
“You would find it impossible to pronounce, Flesh.” It spat and a tooth bounced among the stones.
“Yeah, noticed names are a mouthful here, but Liotte’s minion isn’t much of an improvement.”
The cadaver’s hands clenched the mane, tearing out hairs from the undead beast as puss squirted from his palms to drip down the horse’s neck. Way to go, Jim, piss off your captor, who resembles an extra from Night of the Living Dead.
“Liotte has forbidden me from killing you. He did not specify the condition which you should be in upon arrival to his domain. I am a master at inflicting pain without overly damaging the vessel.”
Yup, Jimbo, pissed him off big time. “Sorry. Look, throw me a bone.” Way to go, Jim. “Sorry, sorry.” I started to take a deep breath, but a maggot squirmed from the horse’s neck and I rethought my strategy. “Hello. My name is Dr. Jim Nichols. You can call me Jim.” I mentally crossed my fingers and toes.
“You are Flesh, beneath contempt.”
I grimaced.
We rode on for a bit, and then it spoke again. “This existence, it angers and frustrates me. At least, you have briefly pushed that back and given me respite. Do not imagine that I have any fondness for you, Jim, but until I am freed, I am willing to allow you to converse--as long as
you continue to bemuse me.”
“Okay, thanks, Mister...”
“Meechelo, you may call me.”
“I don’t suppose I could shorten it to Jell-O or--”
“Meechelo, Flesh!” he roared.
I swear I am gonna need hearing aids way earlier than normal. “Wow. You sure can project. Are you in the demon opera back home?” I looked back and saw Liotte in the distance. “Hey, not that I am complaining, but why is Liotte keeping me around anyway?”
We were quite a bit ahead of all the others...a vanguard of two, I guess.
“He did not say. He merely bade me to bring you.”
“I didn’t hear him say anything.”
“He can communicate mind to mind with the undead and give orders to me, but cannot make me dance like the demon-less undead under his control.”
“So, you have to do what he says, but you are free to interpret it. The other skellies have to do whatever he tells them?”
