by Dan McGirt
“It’s not every day I get to mash a masher,” said Rubis.
The sisters embraced, then caught me in a group hug. I flashed a huge grin at Merc.
“We won! What were you so worried about?”
“Don’t get cocky. We were lucky. Had Babbadabbas caught us during the night, the outcome would have been far different. The Lords of Hell made a tactical error. One they won’t repeat.”
“Okay,” I said, only slightly chastened. “But we still won!”
“Indeed,” said Merc. “Now let us get to Raelna before another attack—get down!”
Reacting instantly, I pushed the twins to the ground and threw myself atop them.
A stinking green cloud exploded into being above us. It cleared to reveal twenty disembodied human eyes floating in the air, their collective gaze fixed on us.
“Arkayne’s blood!” cursed Mercury. He pointed his index fingers at the eyes, projecting narrow streams of blue fire. The eyes scattered in all directions. Merc was unable to hit any of the darting orbs. He did, however, manage to set afire most of the trees and shrubs in the vicinity.
“Do you know what those are?” demanded Merc.
“Flying eyeballs?” I ventured, while the twins squirmed and giggled beneath me.
“Prying eyes. The exhumed orbs of dead murderers, animated by necromancers and used for surveillance by, among others, the Dark Magic Society. We’ve traded one watcher for another.”
“Isogoras?”
“Isogoras. He can track our every move until we rid ourselves of those things, which won’t be easy.”
“Wonderful. By the way, can you make us fireproof?”
“No. Why?”
“Because your flaming fingers have started a forest fire. Which we’re standing in the middle of.”
“I see your point.”
I discarded my now useless chainmail shirt and we set off briskly down the road. The eyes hovered in our wake. It was less than an hour’s walk to the border, but by the time we arrived I was on the verge of collapse. The effects of the coffee elixir had worn off entirely. My feet felt made of stone as we trudged up the last hill separating us from the Sun Kingdom.
Stone marker posts spaced at fifty-yard intervals marked the frontier between Brythalia and Raelna. From time to time, each kingdom sought to expand by surreptitiously moving posts a few yards into the territory of the other. As a result, the border was quite irregular for many leagues, bulging back and forth like the trail of a gigantic serpent. Moving the posts was a time honored custom dating back to at least the reign of Raemark the Surveyor. It was also the traditional Brythalian pretext for the Annual War with Raelna.
The road ahead was barred by portable wooden barricades manned by a pair of Brythalian soldiers in brown tunics. Nearby, a squad of ten Brythalians marched along the border, matched step for step by a like number of Raelnan troops in crisp red uniforms.
The border guards eyed us with suspicion. Well they might. I was bare chested, unshaven, and caked with blood and grime. Rubis had pinned the tatters of her tunic together, but most of her ample cleavage was on display. Sapphrina was crusted with pond mud from her turn as Goddess of the Lake. Only Merc looked civilized, in his magically immaculate red cloak and purple tunic. Behind us loomed a billowing cloud of blue smoke from the fire he had set. Twenty dead eyes hovered in the air above us.
“They’ll ask for our passes,” said Merc softly. “We have none, so let me do the talking.”
“Fine by me.”
“Try to look beat up and drunk.”
“I think I can handle that,” I said.
The guards crossed their spears as we drew near.
“State your name and purpose,” demanded one.
“Thank The Gods we’ve reached you!” said Merc. “I am Mercutio, trusted agent of the esteemed Baron Throcknottle. We were beset by bandits a league or so yonder.” He nodded at me. “My valiant man Burlo beat the rascals away, but he was gravely injured in the affray.”
Leaning on the twins for support, I gave a groan of agony. I wasn’t acting. Much.
The foot patrol hurried over. Its commander stepped forward to take charge. The Raelnan patrol gathered across the barricade, following the proceedings with interest.
“I am Hungo Volf, Captain of the March,” said the Brythalian leader. “What is going on here?”
Merc gave him a haughty stare. “Captain, I demand you apprehend the bandits who attacked us just now! It is unthinkable that daughters of Baron Throcknottle be molested by such ruffians.”
“Bandits you say? How many?”
“Fully half a dozen.”
“What were they wearing?”
“What difference does that make?” asked Merc.
“If we are to apprehend the villains, we’ll need a good description of them.”
“They wore boots and tunics and such.”
“I see. And they were armed, you say?”
“Yes,” said Merc impatiently. “With clubs and knives. If you hurry you might still catch them.”
“Who did you say your lord was?”
“Throcknottle. Baron Throcknottle.”
“Never heard of him.”
Merc looked offended. “Well, this is western Brythalia and he has a smallish holding in eastern Brythalia.”
“Of course he does. And these are his daughters, you say?”
“Indeed.”
“Lovely lasses. Almost Zastrian in their features.”
“Their mother was Zastrian,” said Merc. “Are you going after the bandits or not? This interrogation is an outrage!”
“Yes, yes, quite so,” said Volf. “Why do you travel in these parts?”
“The scoundrels are getting away!”
“Answer my question.”
“I am escorting the girls to visit their maternal grandmother in Raelna.”
“You said their mother was Zastrian.”
“Yes, but their mother’s mother is Raelnan. Quite confusing, I know. Nevertheless, here we are and I will thank you not to detain us any longer.”
“You wish to cross the border then?”
“I thought that was clear.”
“Your passes, then.”
“We lost them in the struggle with the bandits you are so unconcerned about.”
“I thought as much.” Volf’s men fanned out and raised their spears. “What is the real story?”
“What do you mean?” asked Merc.
“Have you any idea how often someone comes through here claiming to be the servant of a minor lord in eastern Brythalia who has lost his pass in a struggle with bandits?”
“Rather frequently, I gather.”
“Quite. Now hands on your heads. You’re under arrest, the lot of you.”
Merc sighed. “Very good, Captain Volf. I commend you for seeing through our ruse. I must now trust you with the truth.”
“You are traveling incognito on a secret mission for the king?”
“Heard that one too, have you?”
“Hands up. Now.”
“Would you like to hear about the floating eyeballs?’
“No. I am doing my best not to notice them.”
“They are prying eyes sent by the Dark Magic Society.”
“I’m not listening.”
“I am the wizard Mercury Boltblaster. This muscular fellow is the notorious Jason Cosmo, and these fair ladies the daughters of a Zastrian senator. We were just attacked by a demon and we have urgent business in Rae City.” He paused, then added. “Oh, and the fate of the Eleven Kingdoms is at stake.”
Volf frowned. “I must admit, I haven’t heard that one before. Nonetheless, you lack passes and you are under arrest. What you say might be true, but you might be runaway serfs. We frown with exaggerated severity upon runaway serfs. So we’ll sort it all out at our stockade.”
“I think not.”
The Raelnan detachment perked up when Mercury announced his true name. He now signaled them with a nod.
The soldiers pushed the barricades aside and charged the Brythalian contingent.
“Run for it!” said Merc, leading the way past the melee.
Once we were across the border, the Raelnans pulled back to their own territory. Four Brythalians lay dead in the dust.
Captain Volf raised his sword to order a counterattack, then reconsidered. “This treachery will not go unpunished!” he said. “You may have escaped Brythalian justice today. But if ever you return to Brythalia, any of you, you will pay for the lives of these men! This I swear!”
“And a good day to you,” said Merc.
The Raelnan squad escorted us to a nearby encampment, where a company of some one hundred troops were busy at drills and camp duties. I now understood Captain Volf’s decision to let us go without further incident. What I didn’t understand was the camp commander’s deferential attitude toward Mercury. A balding, florid faced officer with a chest full of ribbons saluted the wizard smartly as we strode into camp.
“Welcome back to Raelna, Lord Boltblaster! Colonel Nathan Brimcopper at you service, sir!”
Mercury acknowledged the salute with a curt nod. “My companions require your healer, baths, hot meals, rest, and fresh clothing before we say anything more. And post archers to take down some of these accursed prying eyes!”
“At once, milord!”
Agog, I turned to Merc. “Lord Boltblaster? Did I miss something?”
***
“My Raelnan title is largely honorific,” said Merc. “But it has its uses.”
“So I see.”
We dined in the spacious pavilion Colonel Brimcopper provided for our use.
“Brimcopper has kindly offered us an escort to Rae City. With relays of fresh horses, we should arrive in three days. His archers have already downed five of the prying eyes, which is extraordinary shooting.”
“But will the Demon Lords attack again? Or Isogoras?”
“It is difficult to predict what Demon Lords will do, but I wager they’ll lick their wounds a bit before trying again. Raelna is a blessed land, favored of The Gods. That inhibits the Lords Demonical—but does not eliminate their threat. As for the Xornite, he is far more predictable. We’ve routed his lackeys yet again. He’ll be content to spy until he can muster some new pawn to send against me. He is most likely waiting for Natalia Slash. With any luck, some fat troll in the Great Mucky is using her shinbone for a toothpick even as we speak.”
“Again, I gather there is bad history between you.”
Merc nodded. “To put it mildly.”
“You have many enemies.”
“It does seem so.”
“But you aren’t very forthcoming about your past.”
“No, I’m not.”
I sighed. “I suppose I should change the subject.”
“I suppose you should.”
***
Raelna was a prosperous kingdom, blessed with fair weather and fertile soil. Colorful flowers and clover filled pastures lined its well tended roadways. Each new village through which we passed was more charming and picturesque than the last. The Raelnans appeared happy, healthy, hard-working, and harmonious. Raelna was in every respect the opposite of Darnk.
Mercury related something of the kingdom’s history as we rode. The warrior-mage Blaze Shurben was one of the Mighty Champion’s chief lieutenants in the Great Rebellion that brought down the Empire of Fear. Blaze was also a demigod. His mother was Rae, Goddess of the Sun. After the Evil Empire’s fall, the territory through which we now rode was a blasted wasteland. But the Sun Goddess transformed it into a rich regalia of bountiful fields and verdant forests for Blaze and his followers. To honor his mother in turn, Blaze founded Rae City and established a kingdom devoted to mercy, justice, and fun in the sun. The level of mercy and justice ebbed and flowed over the centuries, but, judging from the coppery complexions of the people, Raelnan devotion to sun worship had never waned.
Raelna’s present ruler was Queen Raella. Merc’s high regard for the young queen was evident when he spoke of her. In the wizard’s estimation there was no more benevolent monarch in all of Arden. Rejecting entirely the self-aggrandizing ways of her predecessors, she was determined to reform her kingdom and restore to her people the freedoms that had eroded over the centuries. She had reduced taxes, reformed the courts of justice, outlawed slavery, granted land to peasants, banned torture, and ended imprisonment for debt. Though Raella was much loved by the common folk, Raelna’s nobles resented her trimming of their ancient privileges. But to me, a peasant farmer, her heart seemed to be in the right place.
We spotted the gleaming golden walls of Rae City from ten leagues away. The royal city was laid out in six concentric rings of lofty, colorful towers connected by soaring bridges. The towers of the outermost ring shimmered with an iridescent violet tint. The next ring was of taller blue towers. Next came green, then yellow, orange, and brilliant red. At the center of the metropolis was a mountainous spire of gleaming white stone, mirrored glass, and gigantic prisms that sprayed sunlight across the city in intricate rainbow patterns. This was the Palace of the Sun, the seat of Raelnan power.
We passed unchallenged through one of the seven magnificent city gates and proceeded down a broad, tree lined boulevard to the Sun Palace itself. Palace Guards in fancy red and gold uniforms escorted us inside. The prying eyes did not follow. According to Mercury, protective wards around the palace kept them at bay.
Inside, Merc shifted the hue of his clothing to somber black and grey. His mood took on the same aspect. He ceased responding to my questions or comments.
The Palace Guards turned us over to the Lord Chamberlain. This official was a tall, gaunt, and bespectacled older man who wore an elaborate powdered wig. His costume consisted of a long, high-collared red velvet coat embroidered with gold thread and worn with waistcoat, breeches, and hose. After bidding us an elaborate welcome he directed the members of our party to separate chambers to make ourselves presentable.
A platoon of servants bathed, powdered, brushed, and dressed me in clothes that matched the style, if not the fineness, of the Lord Chamberlain’s garb. Pink and green were not colors I would have chosen, but I didn’t complain. The clothes fit surprisingly well, except for the shoes, which pinched my feet. I politely refused the insistent offer of a powdered wig. A page led me to a nearby parlor where I found Sapphrina and Rubis waiting.
“Gods above!” I exclaimed.
Sapphrina wore an elaborate corseted gown of rich blue silk trimmed with silver brocade. Her golden hair, which I had only seen loose or tied back, was held by jeweled pins in an elegant upswept sculpture of braids and curls piled atop her head.
“What is it?” asked Sapphrina.
“You’re...you’re beautiful,” I stammered, drinking her in from head to slippered toe.
“We know,” said Rubis. She was sheathed in red silk dress adorned with tiny emeralds, rubies, and sunstones.
“But thank you for noticing,” said Sapphrina, flashing her most dazzling smile. She did a pirouette so that I could further admire her gown. “You have no idea how good it feels to get properly dressed up again!”
“I have an idea of the feeling,” I said, pulling at the stiff collar of my own unfamiliar tunic. “I’m not sure how good it is.”
“Fah! Jason, you cut quite the noble figure!” cooed Rubis.
“Most handsome,” agreed Sapphrina.
“I feel ridiculous in this frippery.”
“Tosh!” said Rubis. “It befits you. You look every inch the courtier.”
“Is that a good thing?”
“Our dour wizard is evidently well-connected,” said Sapphrina. “Who would have thought he had any friends at all?”
As if on cue, a door opened and Mercury joined us, accompanied by the Lord Chamberlain. I noted that Merc remained wigless and felt better about my own refusal.
“Mercury, what is all this finery about?”
He shrugged. The Lord Chamberlain led us through a lo
ng maze of wide curving passageways and sweeping staircases to the antechamber of the throne room. He spoke a few words to the barrel-chested Sergeant-at-Arms of the Royal Chamber, who in turn instructed his underlings. A bevy of pages arranged our party in the proper order of precedence.
A trumpet fanfare sounded. The great crystal doors of the throne room swung open. A chorus of bells and horns followed. A claxon-voiced herald announced us one by one:
“His Arcane Eminence, Mercury, Lord Boltblaster!” The Sergeant-at-Arms led Mercury into the chamber.
“Mistress Sapphrina Corundum, a gentlelady of Caratha!”
Sapphrina followed.
“Mistress Rubis Corundum, a gentlelady of Caratha!”
Rubis went next.
“Master Burlo Stumproot, a gentleman of Darnk!”
Expecting to hear my own name, I did not step forward on cue. Thinking I was frozen with sudden fright, a helpful servant gave me a hard shove in the back. I stumbled into the throne room, nearly tripping over my own slippered feet.
The monumental chamber was a wonderland of colors, a series of crystalline terraces connected by wide floating stairways. Bright and fragrant flowers surrounded dozens of sparkling fountains, polychromatic pools, and rainbow-hued waterfalls. Prisms suspended from the domed glass ceiling cast slowly moving slivers of color across the walls and floor. Bright-plumed birds flew about freely. Some even perched on the heads and shoulders of the richly garbed and bewigged courtiers, who did their best not to notice.
More glorious than all this was the throne itself. Carved from a single golden sunstone, it shone like a resting star atop a high dais. There, looking small and distant amid all the splendor, sat Queen Raella.
As the music fell away, six heralds spoke in unison. “Her Most Enchanting Majesty, Raella of the Shurbenholts, Blessed Daughter of the Sun Goddess Rae and by Her Divine Grace the Queen of Raelna, Princess of the Silver Sands, and Supreme Raediatrix of the Holy Church of Rae, bids thee welcome to her court!”
Mercury bowed from the waist. I followed his lead. The twins sketched elegant curtsies. Then Merc started up the steps of the dais. I heard the courtiers gasp at this breach of protocol, saw the guards tense. But the queen gave a subtle shake of her head. No one moved to intercept him.
