The Hero's Guide to Storming the Castle

by Christopher Healy

  “Gustav is going to be so sad he missed this,” Ella said.

  “What were you thinking?” Liam questioned as he ducked a flying alligator skull.

  “That you two were never going to get your act together,” Ella replied, and shoved away a dizzy buccaneer who had staggered her way. “We’re on a tight deadline, right?”

  “Wait! Look what’s happening!” Frederic called to them (he was under the table). “Somebody new just came in.”

  The newcomer was a smaller man who wore glasses and dressed neatly in a vest and slacks. The Boarhound’s front door had barely closed before the unsuspecting man was sucked into the fray, tossed from one thug to another. That guy’s going to die, Liam thought.

  But within seconds, the bespectacled stranger began defending himself—with nothing more than a needle and thread. He bounced about like an acrobat, rapidly winding his thread around his attackers to trip them up and bind them to one another (he also gave a few of them a good poke with his needle). One by one, brawlers began to drop, their hands and feet tied together. Eventually, only the stranger and Two-Clubs were left upright. The smaller man caught both of the barbarian’s tremendous fists together in a loop of thread and yanked on the long string, forcing Two-Clubs to punch himself in the face. The brawl was over.

  “Is this what a guy has to do in order to get a drink around here?” the stranger asked, wiping his rectangular eyeglasses clean on the bottom of his shirt. Liam got up and ushered the man back to the League’s table, as Ripsnard the bartender came out with a pair of scissors to start freeing his patrons.

  “That was incredible,” Liam said.

  “Thank you,” the stranger replied, mending a loose button on his vest while he talked. “Thank all of you,” he added, winking at Ella. He gathered the three untouched mugs on the table and chugged each of them, one by one. When he was finished, he slammed down the last mug and flashed a giddy smile. “I can’t believe I’m sitting here with the League of Princes.”

  “Well, you earned it,” Ella said. “You were great out there.”

  He lowered his glasses to the tip of his nose and batted his eyelashes. “Why, thank you, Miss Cinderella. Name’s Taylor. I’m a tailor. Folks in town call me Little Taylor, so as to distinguish me from Medium Taylor. He’s also a tailor.”

  “Is there a Big Taylor?” Ella asked.

  “No,” Little Taylor said.

  “The pleasure is ours, Mr. Taylor,” Frederic said. “But I hope you understand that we’ll need to ask you a few questions before we officially hire you.”

  “I can handle this, Frederic,” Liam said, pulling his chair closer to Taylor’s. “So what we need for this mission is—”

  Taylor raised his hands in protest. “Whoa there, Prince Charming. Not to seem ungrateful, but I don’t know anything about any contest or audition or whatever was going on here; I was just thirsty.” He tilted his head way back, grabbed one of the mugs, shook it upside down to spill the last few drops of liquid into his open mouth.

  “So you’re not interested in the job?” Liam asked.

  “Not unless it involves hemming your cape,” he said. “I’m a tailor, not an adventurer.”

  “But all that amazing stuff you did—it was like . . . battle sewing!” Ella said.

  “What can I say?” Taylor quipped, running his hand through his slick, black hair. “I’ve got a way with a needle and thread. That’s why I’m a tailor.”

  “Well, sorry to bother you then,” Frederic said.

  Liam sighed. “I guess we’re back to square one,” he said to Ella. “It’s a shame, too. Taylor’s skills would have come in handy against Rauber and his men.”

  Taylor was about to get up but stopped. “Deeb Rauber? The Bandit King? This mission of yours has something to do with him?”

  “Yes, we’re looking to raid Rauber’s vault,” Liam said.

  “The Bandit King ruined my life,” Taylor said. His eyes grew squintier, his face redder. “I used to be the busiest tailor in town until Rauber took everything from me. I lost my shop, my home, my life savings. I live for only one thing now: revenge against Deeb Rauber. I want in on this mission of yours.”

  “But I thought you were just a tailor,” Frederic said.

  “All right, I wasn’t exactly honest with you guys,” Taylor said. He began to roll a piece of thread between his fingers. “After Rauber destroyed my life, I taught myself String-Chi, a centuries-old combat technique that originated with the warrior-seamstresses of Kom-Pai. I’ve been using my skills to take down Rauber’s bandits wherever I see them. Yesterday I took down seven with one blow.”

  “You’re some kind of vigilante?” Liam asked.

  “I prefer to think of myself as a freedom fighter,” Taylor said. “And you’re right; my talents will come in handy.”

  “But we want to get into Rauber’s castle by having an accomplice deliver us there as prisoners,” Frederic said. “If Rauber recognizes you as one of his former victims, he’ll never believe you’re on his side.”

  “What if he doesn’t see my face?” Taylor said with a devious grin. “Have you noticed all the Wanted posters around town?”

  “Yes, the Gray Phantom,” Liam said. “Even back in Harmonia, we’d heard about that madman’s crime spree. We planned to put a stop to it, too, until we got . . . distracted.”

  “I’m not surprised. That murderous madman has done more damage to Flargstagg in the last few months than the Bandit King has in his lifetime,” Taylor said. “But my point is that the Phantom always wears a mask. Nobody has seen his face. I could make a copy of the mask. Rauber might not agree to an audience with Little Taylor, but I bet he’d open his door for the infamous Gray Phantom.”

  Fig. 20

  Wanted POSTER

  Liam took Taylor’s hand and gave it a vigorous shake. “Welcome aboard, Taylor. Or should I say . . . Gray Phantom.”

  Outside the Stumpy Boarhound, Liam unhitched their horses, while Taylor ran off to collect his things.

  “So you’re happy with Little Taylor?” Frederic asked. “You think he’s a good choice for our inside man?”

  Liam nodded as he brushed the flanks of his black warhorse, Thunderbreaker. “I can’t say I’m a huge fan of the way he . . . deals with other people,” he said. “But yes, I think he’ll work out fine for our purposes.”

  “I guess so,” Frederic said. “Still, I think we should only fill him in on the parts of the plan he absolutely needs to know.”

  “I’m on top of it, Frederic,” Liam said, a tad snippily. “I’ve finally got everything in place, so you can stop worrying about the details.”

  “Well, we still don’t know how to get past the Wall of Secrecy,” Frederic reminded him. “That’s a pretty big part of the equation.”

  “It’s become clear that there is no way past the wall besides the front gates,” Liam said. “That’s how you and I are getting in. So everybody else will have to go in that way, too. They’ll sneak in with the circus, hidden in crates or something, and then make their way to the roof.”

  “That’s so risky, though,” Frederic argued. “At least the original plan didn’t require everybody to traipse through the castle and potentially run into bad guys.”

  “Yes, but that original plan required a tunnel,” Liam said, his speech tight and clipped. “And we don’t have anybody to dig that tunnel, thanks to someone who couldn’t get his job done.”

  “Hey, that’s not fair,” Frederic said.

  “You’re supposed to be the talker, Frederic—the charmer,” Liam said. “The only thing I’ve asked you to do so far is convince the dwarfs to help us. And you failed. If you can’t even succeed in your own supposed ‘area of expertise,’ can you at least stop trying to outdo me at mine?”

  “Hey, you’re on the same side, guys,” Ella warned. But both princes ignored her.

  “Liam, your plan has holes in it big enough for a giant to step through,” Frederic said.

  “If you’ve
got better ideas, spit ’em out!”

  “As if you’d listen to anything I have to say,” Frederic snapped, trembling with anger. “For days now I’ve been trying to make suggestions, and you shut me down every time I open my mouth. You’re willing to entertain anybody’s crazy ideas except mine. And I know why: It’s because you’re jealous.”

  “Me? Jealous of you?” Liam barked back. “I taught you everything you know. You’d still be cowering in the mud under a gorse bush in Sylvaria if I hadn’t come along and showed you what it meant to be brave. If there’s any hero in you at all, it’s only because I put it there!”

  Frederic stared at him with watery eyes before soppily muttering, “Excuse me. I have some business to attend to.” He took his horse by the reins and stomped away with her down the sewage-strewn cobblestone street.

  “Liam!” Ella said, aghast. “What is wrong with you?”

  “Wrong with me?” Liam asked. “Frederic keeps trying to undermine me. Why can’t he just let me lead?”

  “Take a step back and look at yourself, Liam,” Ella said, aggravated. “Frederic hasn’t gotten in your way any more than Duncan or Gustav or I. He was right; you do judge him differently. And it’s because of me, isn’t it?”

  “No, it’s not,” Liam quickly responded. “It’s just . . . it’s . . .”

  They were startled by the sudden sound of loud hoofbeats. “Frederic?” Ella wondered aloud. She and Liam darted to the corner and saw Frederic galloping away.

  “Frederic, wait!” Liam yelled.

  “Should we get our horses?” Ella asked.

  “By the time we do, he’ll be long gone,” Liam said. “We’ll never find him in this maze of alleyways.”

  “He left a note,” Ella said, picking up a folded Gray Phantom poster that was sitting on the fence post Frederic’s horse had been hitched to. She grimaced as she read it.

  “What does it say?” Liam asked. She handed it to him.

  Liam—

  You think you know better than I. And often you do—I’ll admit that. But in this case, you’re wrong. So I am taking matters into my own hands. I’ll be back in Avondell in time for the solstice, and I will show you why you should have trusted me from the start.

  Yours truly,

  Frederic

  P.S. I apologize for the lack of a proper salutation at the head of this letter. I was quite incensed when I began writing, but that’s no excuse for improper form. I didn’t even indent—that’s how upset I was.

  “Grr! He’s doing exactly what I told him not to do,” Liam said, angry all over again. “And now what? We’re supposed to put our mission on hold to wait for him? He’s determined to show me up in front of everyone.”

  “I hate to say it, Liam,” Ella said, “but you pushed him to this.”

  “Go ahead, take his side,” Liam said. “He’s your boyfriend anyway.” He shoved the note back into Ella’s hand and marched to his horse.

  “What’s Liam’s beef?” Little Taylor asked, returning with a packed rucksack.

  “You should take this,” she said, passing the Wanted poster over to him. “Use it as a reference to make sure you duplicate the Gray Phantom mask perfectly.”

  “Hmm,” Taylor said with a sly smile. “Smart and tough, eh? You don’t see that combination in a lot of ladies.”

  Ella punched him in the stomach and headed for her horse.

  Liam, Ella, and Little Taylor were all so distracted as they left Flargstagg that none of them noticed the shadowy figure watching them from the roof of the Stumpy Boarhound.

  THE TEAM

  1. Liam

  2. Frederic

  3. Gustav

  4. Duncan

  5. Ella

  6. Dwarfs

  7. Troll (for distraction)

  8. Gnome Lila

  9. Little Taylor (Inside Man)

  10. Snow White

  12

  A HERO HAS NO SENSE OF DIRECTION

  A responsible hero leaves nothing to fate. You never know when you might be faced with a difficult decision, so make sure you always have a coin to flip.

  —THE HERO’S GUIDE TO BEING A HERO

  Earlier that morning, the others had packed up their campsite and taken off for Avondell. They’d only made it a few yards before Lila yelled out, “Hey! Gustav! We’re heading the wrong way!”

  Gustav pulled back on the reins of his horse and let out an annoyed grunt. He trotted over to Lila, who sat in the driver’s seat of Snow White’s covered wagon. “You’re messing with me, kid,” he said. “I may not be able to tell a salad fork from a soup fork, but I know east from west.”

  “Shhhh.” Lila pointed toward the covered portion of the wagon, inside of which sat Briar—squeezed among Snow’s twenty-one baskets of “travel necessities.” Lila motioned for Duncan (who was astride Papa Scoots Jr.) and Snow (who was next to her on the driver’s bench) to lean in closer as well.

  “I only said that for Briar’s benefit,” Lila whispered. “I don’t want her to get suspicious when I turn the wagon around.”

  “Turn around? Why?” Gustav asked.

  “Remember earlier when Briar excused herself to the woods to ‘take care of some princess business’? I figured she was lying so I followed her,” Lila said.

  “You’ve got some guts, girl,” Gustav said. “What if she’d been telling the truth?”

  “Anyway,” Lila went on, “I saw her having a secret powwow with Ruffian. I couldn’t hear what they were saying, but when they were done, Ruff went off in the same direction as Liam and the others.”

  “Ooh, I know a mystery when I hear one,” Duncan said excitedly. “Sounds like Ruffian’s up to no good. Which would make sense, since he’s a bad guy.”

  “I’m sorry,” said Snow. “I don’t know who this Ruffian is.”

  “He’s a bounty hunter,” Lila explained.

  “I’m sorry,” said Snow. “I don’t know what a bounty hunter is.”

  “Um, it’s a guy who hunts people down in order to earn a bounty.”

  “I’m sorry, I don’t know what a bounty is.”

  “You know what?” Lila said. “I’ll write it all down for you later. But now we’ve got to turn around and follow Ruffian.”

  “I don’t know,” Gustav said. “I’ve got one simple mission: go back to Avondell. I don’t wanna mess it up.”

  “C’mon, Gustav,” Lila urged. “My brother and your friends could be in trouble. How will you feel if something terrible happens to them just because you weren’t willing to go a little bit out of your way?”

  Gustav massaged his temples. “This makes my head hurt like when I suck down too many lingonberry ices. Okay, let’s turn it around.”

  They all made a big U-turn and headed off along the same path Liam, Frederic, and Ella had taken.

  “Should we tell Mr. Troll about Ruffian?” Duncan asked.

  Gustav looked back at the green-furred behemoth who was shambling behind the wagon and bending over to taste a new shrub every few yards or so. “Nah, he’s fine.”

  They traveled slowly, with Lila pointing out broken branches, flattened grass, and other telltale signs that someone had passed through. These were all skills she’d picked up by watching Ruffian track her brother the previous summer, and the thought that she was now using them against the bounty hunter himself made her beam with pride.

  After a distance, the trail turned south, and the thick shrubbery and fat vines gave way to dried-out branches and brittle brown leaves. The road slowly turned into dead and dusty earth, obstructed in spots by rubble from age-old landslides.

  “Never too late to turn back,” Snow offered.

  Both Lila and Gustav shook their heads and plowed on.

  They were in the mountains now, bouncing over jagged terrain (with Briar cursing each and every bump as she tried to prevent Snow’s stack of overpacked baskets from tumbling onto her). When they emerged from the rocky pass, they found themselves on a wide plain of barren earth. In the
distance was a tall, curved peak. And at its base stood a monstrous fortress surrounded by an eighty-foot-high stone wall.

  “Starf it all,” Gustav groaned.

  “Uh, Gustav,” Lila said, pulling the wagon to a halt. “That’s Mount Batwing. We’re in Rauberia!”

  “So the hood is working with the bandits,” Gustav quietly surmised.

  “Not necessarily,” Lila said. “His trail doesn’t head to the castle. It veers east, back toward Sturmhagen.”

  “Flargstagg is that way,” Gustav whispered. “He just took a shortcut so he could ambush the others at the Boarhound!”

  “Maybe. But why?” Lila said. “Briar wants Liam to get the sword. . . . Unless she doesn’t! Unless it’s all a trap of some kind!”

  “What’s going on? Why have we stopped? Where are we?” Briar grouched, poking her head out of the back of the wagon and peering at her surroundings. “You’ve got to be kidding me! Here? You brought us here?!”

  “We took a wrong turn, Briar,” Lila said quickly. “Don’t worry. We’re changing course now.” She steered the wagon in a wide arc and found herself blocked off by a scouting party from Rauber’s castle: three black-clad, sword-wielding men on horseback. “Crud,” she said.

  “Hello,” said Vero. “I believe you people are, as they say in my country, trespassing.”

  “Sorry, sir,” Lila said. “We just took a wrong turn. We’ll be leaving right away.”

  “No,” said Vero. “I am afraid you will have to be coming back to the castle with us.”

  Gustav assessed the situation. He could take three bandits, he thought. Especially with Mr. Troll. Wait a minute—where was Mr. Troll? The big, hairy thing must have wandered off at some point. And then it hit him that Duncan was missing, too. “Great,” he muttered.