The Hero's Guide to Being an Outlaw (28 page)

“I may have just lost sixteen princes,” the enormous masked Darian rumbled. “But I got back the only one I really wanted. You and I have unfinished business.”

“Oh, yeah?” said Gustav. “Well, finish
this
!” He thrust his free fist into Wrathgar’s chest. And then he bit his lip, trying not to yelp in pain.

“I have to admit, I’d been hoping for a rebellion just so I would have the chance to quash it,” the former dungeon master intoned, casually strolling toward the exit. “All the sweeter that, in doing so, I finally get to finish what I started last summer. By which I mean killing
you
.”

Wrathgar held Gustav out at a full arm’s length so that the prince’s flailing legs couldn’t reach him. He stepped outside onto Castle Sturmhagen’s grand white stone steps and surveyed the epic battle going on all around them. Escaped princes were pummeling his Darian guards, farmers were clobbering his soldiers with shovels, pirates were hacking the bows of his archers, trolls were slamming his spearmen through picnic tables. “This won’t do at all,” he mumbled.

He flipped Gustav upside down and grabbed him by the ankles, then marched down the steps, swinging the prince like a big human flyswatter. Friend or foe, Wrathgar didn’t seem to care who he attacked. Gustav’s increasingly sore body was smacked into one fighter after another—and bodies went flying. Sigfrid was sent stumbling head-on into a tree, Osvald hurtling into a well. A Darian bodyguard was plowed into a trio of stunned trolls. Mr. Flint was launched up onto a roof. Gunnar was batted into Harald, who stumbled into Tauro, and the three bowled over a squad of Darian archers.

Cutting a swath through the mob, Wrathgar soon reached the open cobblestone plaza at the rear of Castle Sturmhagen, the area known as Celebration Courtyard, where, a year and a half earlier, the League of Princes had mounted a stone stage to be honored with their very first victory statue. The platform still stood at the center of the plaza, but the only thing on it now was a wide pinewood pedestal bearing one of Zaubera’s elephant-size Mega-orbs.

“Hey, Rope Face!” Jerica shouted, chasing after the Darian behemoth. Wrathgar spun to face her. She grabbed a battered helmet off the ground and threw it at him. It missed by several yards.

“Your aim is laughable,” Wrathgar said (with no hint of laughter).

“Oh, yeah?” she taunted. “Let’s see yours.”

Nostrils flaring, Wrathgar brought his arm back and hurled Gustav at the pirate captain. He flew through the air like a burly, blond javelin and slammed hard into Jerica. The two of them crashed backward through a wooden bench.

“Oh, no. You okay, Pirate Lady?” Gustav slurred groggily. Jerica lay groaning amid splintered planks of wood, cradling her left knee.

“I got you away from him, didn’t I?” she said, wincing. “Can you walk?”

“Of course,” he said, standing up. Then he immediately fell over.

“Try again,” she said, pulling herself to her feet. Gustav stood up. He wobbled but managed to stay upright. “Good,” Jerica continued. “Now let’s go stop that . . . that . . . What is he, half hippo?”

Gustav looked over his shoulder at Wrathgar. Having lost Gustav as his “weapon,” the gigantic Darian was now beating people with Mr. Troll.

“Okay,” Gustav said woozily. He lowered his head and got ready to charge. “Stuuuurm—”

Jerica grabbed him. “Not like that,” she said. “We need to distract him.”

“With what?” Gustav asked, cringing at a sound that might have been crunching bone. “The only thing I’ve seen him stop for is his boss.”

“Then let’s get his boss,” Jerica said. She pointed to the Mega-orb up on the stage. “I know how to use those things, remember?”

While Wrathgar continued to decimate his opponents—roaring with delight the entire time—Gustav and Jerica limped up onto the stage and stood behind the colossal crystal ball. Jerica put her hands on the orb and waved them in a series of jerky gestures while she muttered words in a language Gustav didn’t understand. The Mega-orb began to glow. The otherworldly mists inside the globe swirled, and Lord Rundark’s scowling face appeared.

“Wrathgar! What is going on over there?” the Warlord barked. The former dungeon keeper froze at the sound of that dark baritone voice. He dropped Mr. Troll into the pile of unconscious bodies around him and ran to the lip of the stage.

“A revolt, Lord Rundark,” Wrathgar said, looking up into the enormous crystal. “But as you can see, I put an end to it.”

“Are you the only one left?” the Warlord asked sharply.

“I don’t see how that makes a difference,” Wrathgar said. “The rebellion has been quashed.”

Behind the orb, Jerica whispered to Gustav. “Now.” With a grunt, they leaned their shoulders hard into the tremendous glass globe. It tipped forward off of its pedestal.

“Wrathgar, I’m going to send some people over there to investigate the situation,” Rundark said.

“No!” Wrathgar barked back. “I have everything under con— Why is your face moving down like that?”

And the Mega-orb flattened him.

Gustav and Jerica plopped themselves on the edge of the platform, as haggard princes, pirates, farmers, and trolls began dusting themselves off and tying up dazed Darians.

“Parts of me hurt that I didn’t even know I had,” Gustav said. “But, hey, I just saved my kingdom.”

“Actually,” said Jerica. “I think
I
saved your kingdom.”

Gustav bristled. “You never would have been able to push that—”

“Shut up, Goldilocks,” Jerica said. And she kissed him.

S
mimf had a very busy day. The young messenger crisscrossed kingdoms at supersonic speeds, delivering messages between the Princes Charming and their allies. As villagers and nobles alike worked to pull injured rebels from the rubble of the Erinthian palace, Liam and Ella read through their stack of letters. Val, holding herself up on crutches, stood by to listen.

“Amazing,” Liam said, looking up from the paper.

“You think so?” Val said skeptically. “I’ve seen the kind of caterpillar he’s talking about. They’re pretty common.”

“No, I feel like we’ve entered a new age,” Liam said. “People helping people . . . from
other
kingdoms. I still can’t believe I convinced my parents to send Erinthia’s troops down to Valerium.”

“Excuse me, sir, Your Highness, sir,” Smimf said, reaching into his messenger’s bag. “I’ve got one more letter here. It’s not technically addressed to you, but I think you should read it. You see, on the way here, I passed a . . . well, a creature of some sort. He was fuzzy, with big pointy ears, sort of like my grandmother after she got bitten by that werewolf. Anyway, at first I thought this creature was dead—he was lying on the side of the road under a tree. But it turned out he was just sleeping. When I woke him, he said his name was . . . Hardrot, I believe. He said he was supposed to deliver a letter, but that he was just too tired to go on. Seeing that I was a messenger, he asked me if I could take it the rest of the way for him. But before I could ask him where it was going, he’d passed out again—just like my grandmother after she lost that poker game with the slumber fairies.”

“Let me see the note, Smimf,” Liam said. The boy handed it to him, and Liam scanned it. “It’s from Gabberman,” he said. “And it is not good news. Smimf, I need you to take a message back to all the other League members. Tell them to meet at the tunnel entrance at the foot of Mount Batwing as soon as possible. Rundark is about to make his biggest move yet, and if we don’t stop him, all our victories thus far will be meaningless.”

Even around Mount Batwing, winter was shuffling off, making room for spring. It was green grass now, rather than snow, that filled the cracks in the rocky rises at the foot of the mountain. Birds twittered among the branches of the pines as Liam and Ella rode up to the small clearing and dismounted to greet their friends. They were surprised to see only Frederic, Gustav, and Duncan waiting for them.

Rapunzel, it turned out, had remained in Harmonia to administer medical aid to all the wounded fancy people. Jerica had quite a few injuries among her crew as well, and—with regrets—told Gustav that she had to see them taken care of before she could head off on another adventure. Lila was busy with the siege of Svenlandia’s royal castle. And Snow remained in Sylvaria, trying to coax King King down from a flagpole (he claimed to have a fear of charades now and had climbed the pole in terror after seeing someone make a hand gesture). Val was perhaps the sorriest to stay behind, but her broken leg hampered travel quite a bit.

“Well, then I guess it’s just the five of us.” Liam said.

“What’s the emergency?” Frederic asked. And so Liam pulled out Gabberman’s letter.

“‘To Any o’ Ye Princes,’” he read aloud. “‘’Tis a sorry thing to be the bearer o’ bad news, but I’ve gleaned some information that ye princes need be hearing. Dire tidings it is, quite urgent. Arrrrr!’”

“Did he actually write ‘Arrrrr’?” Frederic asked.

“Yes,” said Liam. He continued reading: “‘We been ported off the coast o’ Yondale for a spell, and tonight we seen a suspicious vessel come into the harbor. So we snooped around a bit, and we seen that her crew was Dar folk. They was unloading some o’ the strangest cargo this old pirate’s ever set eyes on. Cannonballs, they looked like—’bout the size o’ witches’ cauldrons. And glowin’ with a fierce light, like somethin’ inside of ’em was fixin’ to explode. We heard ’em talkin’ ’bout these doohickeys like they was bombs. “Just one of these puppies’ll take down an entire castle,” says one. “With his mega-cannon, the Warlord can launch ’em from New Dar all the way to Frostheim,” says another. “I hates it when a dragonfly lands in me grog,” says a third (though I don’t think that was relevant). Anyways, there’s thirteen o’ them glowin’ bomb thingies on a wagon headed for New Dar as we speak. Or as we write, rather. Or as I write and you read. Aye, that’s it. Good luck stoppin’ the bombs! Yers Saltily, Cap’n Horatio Gabberman.’”

“I can’t believe it,” Frederic said.

“I know,” said Duncan, equally wide-eyed. “Horatio? That’s a ridiculous name!”

Gustav raised an eyebrow. “What am I missing here?” he said.

“Don’t you see?” Frederic said. “Those glowing cannonballs Gabberman saw? They’re the magical bombs that Zaubera had planned to destroy our island with. The Darians must have dug them up and are bringing them back to Rundark.”

“Who apparently has a cannon capable of launching those bombs anywhere he wants,” Ella added. “If he can’t control our kingdoms, he’s going to destroy them.”

“We need to stop that shipment of bombs before it gets to Rundark,” Liam said. “Ella and I rode through the night, using Ruffian’s mountain shortcut, which only took two days. Since the Darians are carting a big, heavy wagon, we can assume they’ll need to take the main shipping road down from Yondale, which requires at least four days’ travel. So the bomb wagon should most likely arrive here the day after tomorrow. We should have plenty of time to head along the mountains to the north of Rauberia and set up an ambush.”

“I have a question,” Duncan said, raising his hand. “If it takes four days to get here from Yondale, why are the Darians not arriving until the day after tomorrow? Do you think they’ll stop at Woolly Wally’s Alpaca Farm? I know
I
would.”

“What are you talking about, Duncan?” Liam asked.

“The alpaca farm in southern Yondale. They let you feed the alpacas. And pet them. You’re technically not supposed to ride them, but I kind of did once, which is why I’m not allowed back.”

“No, Duncan—why are you questioning the time frame?” Liam said brusquely.

“Oh. Because of the date on here.” He handed the letter back over to Liam, pointing to some numbers scrawled on the reverse side.

“It’s dated four days ago,” Liam breathed urgently.

“Let’s move!” Ella barked. She was already on her horse. “Those bombs are arriving today!”

They mounted up and galloped out along the edge of the vast meadow that surrounded Rundark’s castle. Keeping close to the eaves of the forest, they moved westward, trying to stay out of view of the guards who patrolled the ramparts of the eighty-foot-tall Wall of Secrecy. In five minutes, there it was—the huge iron gate of the fortress. And the heroes were able to catch the briefest glimpse of a bomb-filled wagon rolling inside. And the gate slammed shut.

“Quick, everyone!” Liam ordered. “Back to the secret tunnel!” He turned his horse around, but Frederic held up his hands to stop him.

“No tunnel—we already checked,” Frederic said. “It’s completely sealed up, packed full with rocks and dirt. Rundark must have discovered it after our last encounter.”

Liam flopped forward, burying his face in Thunderbreaker’s mane and muttering, “Why, Gabberman? Why did you send the narcoleptic half-ogre to deliver your urgent message?”

The others sat there on their horses, staring out at the foreboding fortress. Its dark-gray stone and sharp silhouette were in stark contrast to the lush green meadow that filled the valley and the luminous pink, blue, and yellow blooms that sprouted in bunches all around it.

“Is it just me,” asked Duncan, “or is this place a lot prettier than last time?”

“It’s spring,” Ella said with a shrug.

“No, Duncan’s right,” said Frederic. “It’s more than just the change of seasons. When we raided this castle last year, the land around it was dry and barren. This place used to be called the Orphaned Wastes, remember? We haven’t seen this valley lush and vibrant like this since . . . well, since Zaubera lived here.”

“I’d completely forgotten,” said Ella, leaning down to pluck a small white flower. “But, yes, when she died, all the plants and grass died with her.”

“This valley is a wasteland by nature,” said Frederic. “Her spells were what brought it to life the first time, and they must be what has revived it again now. Interesting that, even in her weakened state, she felt the need to . . .” He stared, as if mesmerized, at the flowing waves of greenery.

“What is it, Frederic?” Ella asked.

Frederic shook his head. “Probably nothing,” he said. “We’ve got a bigger question to deal with right now—and a familiar one. How do we get past that wall?”

Liam scanned the battlements. “Well, first we can . . . No, maybe we . . . Perhaps . . . Ugh. I don’t even know how we
reach
the wall, let alone get past it. There are five times as many guards up there as there were last time. A couple of giants would help. Too bad Maude dragged Reese away to ground him. She said we humans and our covered feet were bad influences.”

“What if we had an army?” Ella asked.

“Sure, that would be nice, too.” Liam sighed. “Too bad every single one of us sent our nation’s soldiers off to fight other battles.”

“Not
every
one of us,” Ella said, grinning. She pointed westward, toward the mountains. Pin-striped soldiers were marching into the meadow by the hundreds, followed by cavalry on silver-armored horses. And cannons—gorgeously painted, rainbow-swirl cannons—were towed alongside them on sturdy war carts. At the head of the charge was a golden coach emblazoned with the flag of Avondell.

“Briar!” Liam said, hopping to his feet. They spurred their horses and raced to meet the Avondellian army. They caught up with the coach when it was about two miles from the Wall of Secrecy and waved down the driver. The man pulled up on the reins and brought his horses to a stop. The entire army came to a halt as Briar stepped out of her coach.

“What’s going on here?” Briar snipped. She was clad in a red-and-black dress, with sharp-angled shoulder pads and reinforced leather sleeves. “Are you losers late for the invasion, or have you started without me?”

Fig. 32
BRIAR, combat ready

“We were late,” said Duncan. “Because Liam doesn’t know how dates work.”

Liam shot him an exasperated look, then turned back to Briar. “How did you know to come here?” he asked.

“That messenger boy told me. He said you’d sent him. Did you not?”

Liam grinned and shook his head. “I told him to give the message to the other members of the League.”

“And he thought that included me—how cute,” Briar said. “Well, I’m here. And I’m wearing my combat gown. So what do you need?”

“Rundark’s got a wagonload of magical bombs in there,” Liam said. “Apparently he’s constructed some sort of mega-cannon. Based on its assumed size and the angle of trajectory needed to fire it, the weapon is most likely located on the roof. So—”

“You need to get inside, Liam—just say that. I swear, nobody on Earth wastes more time talking than you do,” Briar said with a snort. “But you’re in luck, because I brought an army.” She turned around, cupped her hands around her mouth, and shouted, “General Kuffin! Tear down that wall!”