The actor turned to the crowd and spoke against the back of his hand. “Now keep the secret, my adventure-loving friends, for the companions cannot know that they march toward their ends.”
“This is bad,” said Sir Eldrick, and he had a mind to stop the show right then and there.
“What’s the big deal?” said Willow. “I told my tribe what the chief did. My father even broke both of his arms.”
“Ye know what Dranlar is goin’ to do when he sees this?” said Gibrig, looking ashen.
“We should do something,” said Caressa.
“What can we do?” said Murland. “The truth is already out.”
They watched nervously as the four actors portraying them, along with Brannon, walked into the spotlight. The actor portraying Sir Eldrick had a big gut and swayed tipsily, while Murland’s counterpart tripped over his robes and dropped his things just as fast as he picked them up. A tall actor played Willow, and his costume looked like a big green pumpkin. Gibrig’s impersonator was tall and lanky, and carried with him a handkerchief, which he blew his nose in every other second while he whimpered incoherently.
Sir Eldrick watched, embarrassed, as the play unfolded, and the conspiracy between he and Brannon played out. Being that the elf prince had joined the play at the last moment, he hadn’t had time to read through his parts, and instead relied on cue cards at both corners of the stage. And while he spoke his lines and acted his part perfectly, he began to seem hesitant to continue. The more he and Sir Eldrick were exposed, the more Brannon began to falter.
When the story shifted to Valkimir, Hagus, Dingleberry, and Caressa, Gibrig groaned, for Lyricon had included Hagus socking the dwarf king when he found out the lie.
“Oh, boy, oh, boy,” said the dwarf, peeking at the scene from between his fingers.
“Come on,” said Sir Eldrick, standing. “We’ve got to put an end to this.”
The others followed him to the stairs leading to the right side of the stage, where four blue ogres stood, blocking the way.
“Step aside,” said Sir Eldrick.
“No one is allowed backstage,” said one of the ogres with a lisp.
“We’re the real champions, and we demand to speak with Lyricon.”
“Let them pass,” came the voice of the cecaelia.
Sir Eldrick pushed past the ogres and stormed over to Lyricon, who was watching the play with a wide grin.
“What in the hell were you thinking?” said Sir Eldrick.
“Please, do explain.”
“You know what he’s talking about,” said Caressa. “You weren’t supposed to tell everyone that the kings knew about the lie.”
“I wasn’t?” said Lyricon. “And why not?”
“For one,” said Gibrig, looking quite angry. “Me pap is going to be in big trouble if the dwarves find out that he punched King Dranlar.”
“Not to mention that you make us all look like a bunch of idiots,” said Sir Eldrick.
Lyricon raised an eyebrow. Behind him, the actors were performing a scene in which the companions sat in a tie-dyed tent, snorting fust.
“We didn’t confide in you so that you could smear our names all over Fallacetine,” said Murland.
“I do not see the problem,” said Lyricon. “I wrote the play exactly as I saw and heard the adventure play out. You cannot say that I have lied. Nor have I taken artistic liberty, as so many others do.”
“We look like morons!” said Murland.
“Like I said, I have not taken any artistic liberties…”
“Look,” said Sir Eldrick, squaring on him. “This play needs a serious rewrite before the tour continues. We cannot implicate the kings in the conspiracy like this. If people think that King Henry intentionally sent me to my death, they are going to know that the rumors of the affair between the queen and I are true.”
“Fear not, my good knight, for the truth shall set you free,” said Lyricon.
“I don’t think you understand…we’re not asking.”
“Are you threatening me?” said Lyricon, clearly amused.
The companions stood their ground. A new scene began, this one portraying Princess Annallia confronting King Rimon about the truth of Brannon’s fate. To everyone’s surprise, the real King Rimon bellowed, “Enough of this!”
The actors stopped dead.
Lyricon offered the companions a withering glare and glided onto the stage. “Good King Rimon,” he said with a bow. “Why have you stopped the play, for surely your subjects are eager to see the scene continue.”
The crowd stirred, and many heads nodded affirmation.
“This farce is over. I will not allow these lies to be uttered in my city.”
“Lies?” said Lyricon, glancing around at the crowd. “Then you deny sending your only son to his death?”
“You are done here,” said Rimon, his malice and rage barely contained.
“I did not know that the king of Halala was against free speech,” said Lyricon, looking to the crowd with surprise. “Is he a leader of free elves, or a dictator?”
The elves began to voice their agreement as the elven guards moved toward the stage by the dozens.
“Arrest that cecaelia!” said the king.
“Let it be known!” said Lyricon as the elven guards approached and his own guards squared on them. “The king of elves is a liar and a tyrant, but those of you who wish to know the truth will soon get a chance, for my trilogy, The Champions of the Dragon, shall soon be out, and the true story shall be known far and wide!”
A shadow suddenly loomed overhead, blocking out the moon and stars—it was Atlas. The stage began to shake even as the elven guards tried to fight their way past the ogres. Suddenly, a beam of light shot out of the bottom of Atlas and consumed the stage, which began to slowly rise into the air.
The companions all grabbed ahold of something solid as the stage floated up, up, and into the bottom of the floating city. In the theater below, chaos ensued. King Rimon could be heard over the tumult, furiously ordering his knights to attack. But it was too late. Atlas hummed and shook, and the floating city quickly picked up speed, flying off to the south.
Chapter 8
The Show Mustn’t Go On
“Are you insane!” said Sir Eldrick as he and the others followed Lyricon up the stairs leading from the large chamber that the stage had been lifted into.
“You still don’t get it, do you?” said Lyricon as he emerged near his palace. Atlas was cruising through the air at a good clip, and the wind blew furiously.
Everyone followed the cecaelia into the palace, where he stopped and turned to them with a grin. “I believe that you have forgotten who you are dealing with. I am the pirate king of Atlas. Why would I turn down the opportunity to show the world the hypocrisy of its rulers?”
“We did not agree to this tour because we thought you wanted to cause trouble,” said Sir Eldrick.
Lyricon grinned and spread his arms wide. “I’m a pirate. I cause trouble, it’s what I do.”
“No one is going to let you perform in their kingdom once word spreads,” said Caressa.
“A play that is banned in five kingdoms,” said Lyricon, tapping his chin in mock consideration. “Hmm, that sounds like a hot topic indeed. By trying to stop it, the foolish kings are only going to make it more popular. I have already had a million copies of the trilogy made, and as we speak, they are being sold by traveling bards across the land. Oh, my friends, the show will indeed go on. Everyone is going to know the true story by the time I am done. They will see their leaders for the bastards that they are, and if you continue to defy me, they will see you all as the frauds that you are.”
“Frauds? We defeated Drak’Noir in the end,” said Murland, wanting to fry Lyricon where he stood.
“Did you? As I recall, over a hundred witches and wizards fought the dragon. It could be argued that all you five did was finish her off.”
“That’s bullshit and you know it!” said Sir Eldrick.
“Is it? Perhaps if you stay with the tour and shut your mouths, then you will convince me.”
“This is blackmail,” said Caressa. “And you won’t get away with it.”
“Won’t I?”
“I’m not letting you ruin King Henry’s reputation,” said Sir Eldrick.
“If his reputation was built on lies, then it should be ruined,” said Lyricon.
“And what about me pap, eh?” said Gibrig. “The king ain’t acted against him because no one knows what he done. If ye go and show that in the play like ye done, he’s likely to be hanged.”
“I like your father. He is a good dwarf, but I believe that he can fend for himself. Look, they are all going to deny it anyway. I believe that you are making a bigger deal out of this than it is. Remember, any publicity is good publicity. Stay with me and I’ll make you rich beyond your wildest dreams.”
“Let me rewrite the play,” said Brannon. “You can put whatever you want in there about my father, but leave the others out of it.”
“Impossible. As I have said, the books are already being sold. Your only decision is whether you are going to honor the deal that we made. The deal that you swore on.”
“Making Brannon and I look like back-stabbing bastards was not part of the deal,” said Sir Eldrick. “Telling the world that King Henry was punishing me for sleeping with the queen was not part of the deal.”
“Come on now,” said Gibrig. “There ain’t no reason for us to fight ‘bout this.”
“You should listen to the dwarf,” said Lyricon.
“The damage is done,” said Murland. “But we’re not going to continue with the tour unless you change the script and make edits to the books.”
“I have made my position quite clear,” said Lyricon.
“So have we,” said Sir Eldrick. “We’re leaving.”
He turned toward the door and the others followed, but three huge trolls blocked the way.
“Call off your goons,” said Caressa.
“I don’t think you all understand what is going on here,” said Lyricon, and four hooded figures emerged from the shadows behind him, brandishing wands. “You are going to continue with the tour as planned.”
“Or what?” said Caressa. “You’ll kill us?”
“Kill? Of course not. But you would be surprised how easy it is for some sorcerers to manipulate the minds of others. By the time my friends are done with you, you will be eating fish food out of my hand.”
“You leave us with no choice,” said Sir Eldrick, and Lyricon smiled greedily.
The smile soon disappeared, however, as Sir Eldrick unsheathed his fae blade and chopped the left arm off the closest troll. The four sorcerers released spells in unison. Murland brought up a shield that deflected one of the spells, while Akitla produced a wall of ice that absorbed another. One missed Willow by inches and hit the troll behind her in the forehead, causing him to go cross-eyed before smiling stupidly and passing out. The last spell hit Gibrig’s shield, ricocheted, and found Lyricon’s surprised face. He too went down in a daze.
“Run!” cried Murland as he fought to deflect the onslaught of spells coming at him.
Akitla hit one of the trolls with a magic bolt, turning him to ice, while Willow barreled into the one-armed troll, hit him square in the chest, and launched him straight through the pretty ivory door behind him.
Spells echoed through the vast chamber as the companions hurried for the door, and Murland did his best to deflect them all, but one got through and took Willow in the back. He unleashed a spell that reversed gravity as he rushed out the door, causing one of the sorcerers to suddenly fly into the ceiling at freefall speeds.
Outside, he found Sir Eldrick and the others fighting off Lyricon’s guards. Willow had passed out just outside the door. He knew that they could never carry her, but there was one who could.
“Someone block the door!” he said as a spell whizzed by. Akitla was there in a flash and filled the opening in the broken door with a thick layer of ice. Murland hurriedly shouldered Packy off and strapped the backpack to Willow.
A horn blared in the distance, and as Sir Eldrick knocked out the last of the nearby guards, he turned to the group, panting. “Anybody got a plan?”
“We’ve got to get off Atlas,” said Gibrig.
“Yeah, no shit,” said Brannon.
“Now that ain’t nice at all, I just be tryin’ to help.”
“Come on, guys, think!” said Sir Eldrick.
“Brannon’s vines,” said Murland, turning to the elf. “Can you make them grow long enough for us to climb down?”
Brannon glanced at the world beyond the edge of Atlas. “We’re hundreds of feet in the air…I don’t know.”
“Can’t hurt to try,” said Sir Eldrick. “Come on!”
Luckily, Lyricon’s palace was built near the edge, and they needn’t go far to find it. Brannon dropped a big seed into one of the nearby fountains, and Murland hit it with a light spell. The plant exploded from the fountain, its roots digging into brick and shattering stone as Brannon poured everything he had into the floral magic. The vines grew and grew, and Brannon guided them over the edge. Seeing the forest rushing by below them, Murland guessed that they were flying at least three hundred feet above the ground—and it seemed like they were climbing.
“Get Willow out of here,” he said to Packy, and everyone helped as the backpack tried to take off with its great burden. Packy managed to climb higher once it got some air, and it promptly dove over the edge, taking the unconscious ogre with it.
“Alright, ladies first,” said Sir Eldrick.
Caressa and Akitla hurried over the side, clinging to the thick vines and using the leaves for footholds and handholds. Gibrig went next, and Murland wondered how the vines would hold up to the impossible weight of the shield, but for some reason, it appeared that if it was on Gibrig’s person, it weighed no more than any regular shield might. Sir Eldrick gestured for Murland to follow, but just then, the ice wall that had been fused into the busted door exploded outward. Murland shot a stunning spell at the doorway, pushing Sir Eldrick toward the edge. The knight scrambled over as Brannon directed offshoots of the thick vines toward the sorcerers. An arrow zipped past, and Murland saw that many guards had taken to the battlements; others were rushing toward them from every street and alley.
“Go!” said Murland as he brought up a shield to protect them both from the onslaught of spells and arrows.
Brannon looked exhausted, and Murland worried for him as he began shakily down the vines and over the edge. But there was no way he could help. It was all he could do to keep the sorcerers and archers at bay. The foot soldiers were cautiously closing in, and Murland had only seconds before they would be upon him. He abandoned his shield for but a moment and cast an ice spell on the ground at his feet before bringing up his shield once more. The ice spread across the cobblestone, causing the soldiers to perform a precarious dance in their heavy armor. With no time to grab a handhold, Murland turned and leapt over the edge.
Spells erupted above him as he dropped and fell inches away from the vines. He tried to grab them as they zipped by, but his trajectory soon took him away from the vines, and his friends called his name as he flipped and fell toward the earth. His head swooned, for the magic had taxed him greatly. Knowing that Packy couldn’t help him now, Murland thought of Lance Lancer, and moments before he hit the stony shores of the river below, he tapped himself with the wand and cast the anti-gravity spell. He slowed quickly, and just before he stopped five feet from the ground, he cast the reversing spell, causing him to fall safely the short distance to earth.
“Holy shit, it worked,” he said to himself breathlessly.
Overhead, Atlas and the swinging vine continued to the south as fast as a prize horse. Packy was nowhere to be seen, and so he assumed that Willow was safe. He rushed after the floating city along the shoreline, cramming his brain for an idea, for the vine was short more than a hundred fe
et, and Atlas was slowly climbing.
“Packy!” Murland yelled, knowing that the backpack was his only hope of reaching his friends.
He watched with growing panic as the vine and the small figures climbing down it began to cross the wide river.
“Packy!”
Silence met his cries, and he ran as fast as he could down the shoreline, hoping beyond hope that there was a bridge around the next bend.
***
Sir Eldrick reached the bottom of the vine with Gibrig right above him. Below them, Akitla and Caressa clung to the last five feet. Brannon was coming, albeit slowly.
“Can you make it any longer?” Sir Eldrick yelled up to him, and in his mind, he heard what would no doubt be Wendel’s crude reply. His mind often told him jokes in times of stress, but at the moment it wasn’t doing much to help.
“Atlas is climbing as fast as the vines are growing. I don’t know how much longer I can do it!” said Brannon.
“I’ve got an idea,” said Akitla. “But you’re going to have to trust me.”
“Let’s hear it,” said Sir Eldrick.
“Let go, and I’ll catch us with an ice slide.”
“You’ll what?” said Caressa.
“We used to do it all the time back in Shivermoore. Trust me, I know what I’m doing,” said Akitla, and she looked to Sir Eldrick.
“Alright, let’s do it,” he said, smiling at his clever daughter.
Just then a spell flew by, and Sir Eldrick looked up to find the three wizards shooting spells at them.
“Brannon, hurry your ass up!” said Sir Eldrick.
The elf prince shambled down to them as spells streaked by, coming too close for Sir Eldrick’s liking.
“What’s the plan?” said the elf, and Sir Eldrick smiled and nodded at the others.
“Jump,” he said, and grabbing Brannon’s arms, Sir Eldrick pulled him into a freefall.
Brannon screamed in his face as they fell through the air. As they rotated, Sir Eldrick caught a glimpse of Akitla casting her ice magic. It hit the river, and a snaking half-pipe swirled out of the water at an angle and grew toward them as they fell. They hit hard, but in one piece, and slid down the ice chute with Akitla leading the way. She was standing in a crouch as she rode the tube, and when the end came, she caused another chute to grow from the first. They sped across the river like an arrow, and Akitla gradually raised the chute, causing them to slow. She steered them around in a tight circle and gracefully stepped off onto the shore as the others tumbled to a stop at her feet.
The Mother of Zuul: Humorous Fantasy (Epic Fallacy Book 4) Page 7
