The Hero's Guide to Storming the Castle

by Christopher Healy

  Children all over would gather along the roadside to watch the circus caravan roll by: twenty glittering, rainbow-colored wagons driven by burly, heavily sequined men. The kids would keep their eyes trained on the passing windows, hoping for a glimpse of a shimmery top hat, a bouncy clown wig, or a flickering striped tail. Duncan had giddily done so several times in his own youth.

  Those familiar old “happy bubbles” welled in his belly as he hid behind a large boulder in the woods, waiting for the circus caravan to come up the road. He had to remind himself that he and Snow were not there to watch the circus but to infiltrate it.

  As they were instructed to do, Duncan and Snow had dug a huge hole in the road and covered it up with piles of long, dry reeds. And the lead driver steered his wagon straight into the trap. The right front wheel crashed down into the pit and snapped right off its axle. As the driver slid from his seat to take a look, the entire caravan came to a standstill.

  Stanislav Flimsham threw open a door on the side of the lopsided wagon. “What happened?” he asked, feeling his hair to make sure his slick black pompadour was still in place.

  Fig. 29

  Stanislav FLIMSHAM

  “Lost a wheel,” the driver groused. “This may take a while.”

  “Well, be fast about it,” Stanislav said nervously. “You know who we’re performing for today. We can’t be late.” He called for the other wagon drivers to come up to the front of the line and help out.

  With that distraction in place, Duncan and Snow scrambled down to the wagon that was helpfully labeled CLOWNS in huge pink letters. Duncan walked up to its back door, on which hung a small sign that read DO NOT DISTURB. He knocked anyway. The door opened, and a short man wearing a curly green wig poked his head out. “Which part of ‘Do Not Disturb’ do you not understand?” the man asked.

  Duncan thought about it. “Turb,” he answered.

  The green-wigged man slammed the door in his face. Duncan knocked again. “Mr. Clown, we would like to make you an offer,” he said, pulling a sack of coins from his belt. “My wife and I would like to trade places with you. I can’t really say why—although I can assure you it has nothing to do with stealing a magical sword from the Bandit King. We’ll make it worth your while, though. By giving you money.”

  The clown looked indignant. “Are you trying to bribe me?” he asked. “You think I, a master of the slapstick arts, will let you, an untrained nobody, perform in my place during this afternoon’s show?”

  “Me and my wife,” Duncan added helpfully.

  The man looked as if he’d just swallowed a mouthful of rancid yogurt. “Have you never heard of the Clown’s Code of Honor?” He slammed the door once more.

  “So was that a no?” Duncan asked through the door.

  “Yes,” the clown snapped. “I mean, no. I mean, yes, the answer is no. You’re deliberately trying to confuse me.”

  “How many of you clowns are in there?” Snow asked, stepping up alongside her husband.

  “There are four of us,” the green-haired man answered, angrily throwing the door open again. “But we are all clowns of honor. None of my fellow artists will agree to your dirty payoff either.”

  “You clowns!” a sharp voice hissed from behind them. It was Briar Rose. “And I mean that to be an insult, not an observation.”

  “Who the heck are you supposed to be?” the clown asked.

  Briar clocked him over the head with her golden gavel. The clown fell from the back of the wagon and landed in a heap on the dirt road.

  “Princess, I told you to wait,” Ruffian the Blue admonished as he ran up.

  Duncan was perplexed. “Why are you two here? Does Liam know about this?”

  “Of course he does,” Briar tossed off as she climbed into the wagon and Ruffian hurried in after her.

  Snow poked the clown on the ground. “He’s unconscious,” she said.

  “Don’t look at me,” Duncan said. “I’m not going to kiss him.”

  Just then three more motley-clothed clowns were hurled from the wagon: two women and a man, each knocked out. Ruffian climbed back outside.

  “Behind that boulder,” Ruffian instructed. “Hurry. Before all the drivers return to their wagons.” He, Duncan, and Snow dragged the four unconscious clowns out of the road.

  “When exactly did Liam change the plan?” Duncan asked.

  “He didn’t,” Ruffian said. “Princess Briar did. I’m sorry to have to do this.” He pulled a rope from his belt and proceeded to tie Duncan and Snow together.

  “Excuse me, Mr. the Blue,” Snow said. “It’s going to be a lot harder for us to dress as clowns when we’re tied up like this.”

  Ruffian placed gags over both of their mouths and went back inside the clown wagon with Briar.

  After several minutes of sitting in the dirt tied up, Duncan finally said, “I don’t think this is really part of the plan.” (Although, through the gag, it sounded like “Ah ro rih rih eh reeree rah oh ruh rah.”)

  Snow, who understood him perfectly, replied, “I think you’re right.” (“Ah rih roh rah.”)

  Thankfully for you, the reader, they didn’t need to communicate like this much longer. Because Rapunzel appeared, slipping out from behind a nearby rock.

  “I’m so glad you showed up,” Snow said as soon as the gag was pulled down from her mouth. “I’ve been meaning to ask you what you use to get your hair so thick and silky.”

  “Um, I was going to ask if you were all right, but I’m guessing yes,” Rapunzel said.

  “Briar knocked out all the clowns and tied us up,” Duncan said. “I’m not totally positive, but I believe she might be up to something”

  “That’s why I followed her and the hooded man,” Rapunzel said. “Frederic warned me about Briar. He was afraid she might double-cross you all. So when I saw her sneak out of the palace, I knew I had to follow. Which is crazy! I don’t really know what possessed me. I’m a peaceful person! I grow turnips and take care of elves with pinkeye! I shouldn’t be here.”

  “That’s okay, Punzy,” Duncan said. “Snow and I can take it from here.”

  “Where are we taking it?” Snow asked.

  “Where are we taking what?” Duncan responded.

  “Whatever you’re talking about.”

  “What was I talking about?”

  “Lunch, I hope. Because I am starving.”

  “Okay,” Rapunzel said with resignation. “I guess I’m sticking with you two a little longer.”

  “Wonderful. So what do we do now?” Duncan asked, then quickly blurted, “Wait! Don’t tell me. Of the three of us here, I’m the one who’s a real hero. I’ll figure it out.”

  “Why don’t we just continue with the original plan?” Snow asked.

  “Hmm,” Duncan mused. He pulled out a piece of paper and a quill and jotted down a note for his book: “A real hero listens to his wife.” He put the paper away and announced, “Let’s do it. We’ve got some perfectly good clown costumes right here. They happen to have clowns in them; but, hey, you take what you can get.”

  Duncan, Snow, and Rapunzel swapped outfits with three of the unconscious clowns. “I should be healing this woman, not stealing her clothes,” Rapunzel sighed as she put on a roomy white one-piece jumpsuit with rainbow-colored fluff balls down the front. “I will come back and cry on you,” she whispered to the clown.

  After Snow changed into a baggy purple-and-blue striped shirt, baggy orange pants, and a pink cap, Duncan, who dressed behind a shrub for privacy, jumped out and asked, “How do I look?”

  “Dunky, I thought you were going to put on the clown’s clothes,” Snow said, disappointed.

  “I did,” Duncan said, looking down at himself.

  “They look just like your old clothes.”

  “Not the belt, though,” Duncan said, shaking his hips and making a jingling sound. “It has bells!”

  Just then the wagon train began moving again. The trio ran to catch up with the last wagon—the one marke
d ANIMALS—and jumped on board before it got moving too fast. They found themselves in a dark, cramped space surrounded by dozens of wild creatures, not all of which were in cages—including a nervous-looking pig and a monkey fondling a handful of darts.

  “This should be a fun ride,” Duncan said.

  “Hey, look,” Snow said, yanking a tray of berries away from a very sad bear cub. She smushed a raspberry with her fingertip and then touched it to her nose to make a bright red dot on the end. “We can’t be clowns without makeup!”

  After the circus rolled through the front gates of the Wall of Secrecy, the wagons parked in the open courtyard, and when the performers spilled out, nobody paid attention to the three new clowns with big berry-red circles on their noses and cheeks. It helped that the Flimsham clowns were a notoriously cliquish bunch who rarely socialized with the other circus folk. Most of the acrobats and lion tamers couldn’t tell one clown from another anyway.

  Duncan, Snow, and Rapunzel blended into the crowd of acrobats, dancers, and trapeze artists as they crossed the large wooden drawbridge toting crates of props and pushing wheeled cages full of wild animals. Once inside the castle, the circus troupe was led into a massive indoor amphitheater, where they began setting up for the show.

  Duncan excitedly watched husky men walk by carrying insanely tall ladders, barrels loaded with lit torches, buckets of trick-performing ferrets, and other assorted armfuls of weirdness. Unable to restrain his curiosity, he peeked through the curtains to look out on the “stage,” which was at floor level, with rows of tiered seating rising up around it. Hundreds of bandits had already filed in, hooting and belching as they took their seats. Many were brawling over who got to sit in the front row “splash zone.” None of Rundark’s Darian henchmen were present, however; they were all out patrolling the halls of the castle as the Warlord had instructed.

  The shouts and grunts of the circus audience suddenly hushed as Deeb Rauber himself arrived. The Bandit King entered a roped-off private viewing area, which contained only three plush, red velvet seats. He took the center chair for himself, and Lord Rundark—who already looked nauseated by the unruly behavior of the bandits around him—sat down to his left.

  “Interesting fellow,” Duncan muttered. He, Snow, and Rapunzel made their way through the bustling backstage area. Behind a large stack of monkey-treat crates, the trio found Ruffian and Briar Rose. Briar was wearing a lime-green jumpsuit with bright yellow ribbons flowing from the arms and legs, a tiny pointed hat sitting way up on top of her immense mound of auburn hair. Ruffian was sporting a curly blue wig, an oversize polka-dot bow tie, and his cowl—hood up, naturally.

  As soon as Briar saw Duncan and the others, she smacked Ruffian on the arm. “Can’t you do anything right?”

  “Aha!” Duncan shouted triumphantly. “We’ve caught you!”

  Briar got right in his face. “You fools! I was trying to keep you safe. Do you have any idea what you’ve just walked into? You’ll get yourselves killed in here.” She turned to Rapunzel. “And you! Actually, who are you again?”

  “Rapunzel.”

  “Well, you shouldn’t be here either,” Briar said, still sounding rather growly.

  “Let me show you something,” Ruffian said. He walked over to a small rip in the curtain and pointed out through the hole. “That monstrous man seated next to the Bandit King?” Ruffian said. “That is Lord Rundark, the Warlord of Dar, widely known as the cruelest, most vicious tyrant in the world. Lord Rundark is far more dangerous than the Bandit King.”

  “My goodness,” Duncan said. “If the Warlord of Door is here, we need to warn Liam and Frederic.”

  “And Gustav and Ella and Lila,” added Snow.

  Ruffian glared at Briar. “The young girl is here?” he asked angrily.

  “Everybody shut up and let me think!” Briar screeched. “I came in here with a purpose, and all you losers are getting in my way.”

  “Well, let me get out of your way,” Duncan said. “I’m off to warn the others about our homely new enemy. It’s what a true hero would do.” He dashed off, shouting, “Good luck, Snow! I’ll be back!”

  “Fantastic,” Briar grumbled, stamping her foot.

  “These things take forever to get started,” Rauber complained, fidgeting in his seat. He was eager for the first act but even more eager for the last, during which he planned to invite Rundark onstage and present him with an exploding “trophy” that was filled with elephant dung and packets of colored dye. Let’s see how scary Rundork is when he’s covered with rainbow poop, Rauber thought. My men will laugh him out of the castle. And I’ll swipe his crazy skull helmet as he goes.

  He was chuckling to himself when Vero tried to sit in the private box’s only remaining seat. Rauber shot out his hand and blocked the chair.

  “Eh, sorry, Vero,” Rauber said. “The Gray Phantom gets the good seat today.”

  Vero frowned. “But, sir, I have something—” He began to reach into his vest, but Rauber cut him off again.

  “No can do, man. You’re out, Phantom’s in.”

  Vero narrowed his eyes and walked away. The glass vial remained in his vest. Little Taylor rushed past him and plopped eagerly in the seat.

  A loud, sudden explosion caught everyone’s attention as Stanislav Flimsham was blasted out of a cannon. The red-robed ringmaster arced through the air, landed in a forward roll, stood up, leaned his head back, and spat a geyser of spark-spewing fireworks from his mouth. He was promptly hit in the side of the head with an old shoe thrown by a bandit in the audience.

  “Boo!” the bandit jeered. “Do something exciting!”

  Flimsham loosened his collar a bit, checked his hair, and took a deep breath. “Ladies and gentlemen . . .”

  A tomato smashed onto his shoulder.

  “Well, wait, let me see. . . . Okay, just gentlemen!”

  Someone tossed an iron that landed very close to the ringmaster’s toes. “Just men?” he tried. “Does that work? Men? Okay . . . Men! The time has come! Allow me to introduce the world’s only circus with sparzle: the Flimsham Brothers Circus!”

  The crowd spat and grumbled as a quintet of acrobats cartwheeled onstage with their pants on fire. The circus had begun.

  Backstage, Snow fretted about Duncan’s disappearance.

  “Stop biting your nails,” Briar said.

  “I wasn’t biting my nails,” Snow said defensively. “I was tapping my teeth.”

  “Oh, well, by all means, carry on then,” Briar said drily. She glanced around and took note of the various exits. When the time was right, she’d need to make her move—no matter how dangerous it was.

  There was a round of booing as the acrobats came running offstage, dripping with what appeared to be clumps of mayonnaise. One of them was in tears. Two sparkly hatted women gulped and pushed a cart full of kittens onstage for their juggling act.

  “Hey, you clowns should really be rehearsing,” one of the acrobats said as he wiped mayo from his eyes. “You guys go on in less than an hour, and this crowd is a real killer.”

  21

  A HERO GETS DUMPED

  The bigger they are, the harder they fall. So I suggest being small.

  —THE HERO’S GUIDE TO BEING A HERO

  When you’re more than a hundred feet tall, it’s not easy to find a good hiding spot. Luckily for Maude, Castle von Deeb stood in the shadow of the great, crooked Mount Batwing. The giantess poked her head out from behind the mountain, taking a peek at the fortress below.

  “Watch what you’re doing, Big Mamma!” Gustav snapped. “They’ll see you!”

  Maude pulled her monstrous head back behind the peak. She raised her hand up to her face so she could scowl directly at Gustav, who sat with Ella and Lila in a small wooden rowboat on the giantess’s palm.

  “Did I ever tell you about the last time an uppity knight called me a rude name?” Maude hissed at the burly prince. “I crushed him between my eyebrows.”

  “Why is Big Mamma a rude name
?” Gustav asked. “It’s factually accurate.”

  “Oh, so you’re a smart guy, eh?” Maude sneered.

  “Who are you calling smart?” Gustav growled back.

  “Hey, call a truce,” Ella admonished. “We need to work together.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” Maude said. “I’m just a little on edge. I haven’t crushed anything in a while. And I’ve got this boat right here in my hand. . . .”

  “Maude, let me take a look again through the spyglass,” Ella said. The giantess held the boat out at an angle that allowed Ella to see past Mount Batwing to the castle and barren fields below. “The circus has been inside for well over an hour now. The show must be starting soon. And I don’t know why there are so many guards lined up along the back wall. We were only expecting two.”

  “Any sign of Awful Clawful yet?” Gustav asked.

  “No,” Ella said. “I hope there’s nothing wrong. Oh, wait. There he is! Mr. Troll is making his way toward the front gates now.”

  “This is it.” Lila said. She and the others all flipped up the collars on their black thieves’ outfits. “Time to get stealthy.”

  Mr. Troll rumbled out from behind his rock, roaring and pounding his big fists into the dry, cracked earth. He waited to hear shouts of “Troll!” echoing across the wastes. But none came.

  He tromped straight up to the Wall of Secrecy and saw ten bandit archers with their bows drawn and arrows trained on him, all of whom had been warned by Rauber to expect a troll attack. Suddenly there was a whistling sound, and Mr. Troll felt a sharp sting in his right arm. He looked over and saw an arrow sticking out of his thick, mossy hair. “Hmm,” he grunted. “This not good.”

  Ella put down her spyglass in frustration. “I don’t get it,” she said. “There are still like twenty guards along the back wall. Why are none of them running off to stop the troll?”