The Hero's Guide to Saving Your Kingdom (15 page)

“Oh, we don’t want that to happen,” Reese said. “You should sit down for a spell.”

“There’s no furniture in here. If I sit, I’ll be even closer to the moist, moldy floor. No, I have to try to stand. Even though I’ll probably pass out.” Ella made her voice faint and quivery. “And I don’t want to collapse and cause any harm to myself, because then it would be as if
you
hurt me by keeping me in here. And you’re a gentleman who would never hurt a lady. Oh, I’m having such difficulty breathing.”

“But what can I do, ma’am?” Reese asked, distressed by the situation.

“I’m sure some fresh air would help. Please just take me outside for a few moments.”

“Oh, I can’t, ma’am. The witch said—”

“The witch? The same woman who called you all those horrible names? What she says is more important than your own honor?”

“I’m sorry, ma’am. I can’t.”

“Look, Reese, I’m not asking you to set me free. I just need some air. You can put me back in your pocket.”

“Oh,” said Reese, surprised by the suggestion. “That’s rather accommodating of you. Well, I suppose it is the polite thing to do.” He held his open palm by the window of Ella’s cell. “Go ahead, jump on.”

Ella hopped through the window onto the giant’s hand, and he placed her gently into the same pocket where, hours earlier, she had begun creating an escape hole.

“There you go, ma’am,” Reese said. “I hope that helps.”

“It’s much better already, thank you,” Ella replied as she immediately began tugging at the loose thread.

“I can’t believe she put you in a cell that was so unwelcoming,” Reese said. “I told her she ought to cast a dehumidifying spell in there.”

Ella faked a big, loud yawn as she worked. “Oh, all that mold left me in such a weakened state. I’d better take a nap.”

“Good thinking, ma’am,” Reese said. “You rest up now. I won’t bother you.”

The giant sat down with his back against the tower and began humming softly. Twenty minutes later, Ella had unraveled enough thread to create a human-size hole in Reese’s pocket. She quickly slipped through it, stealthily slid down the giant’s big round belly, and ran off into the nearby woods, feeling exhilarated by her escape, though also a bit sad at the thought that the witch would probably turn Reese into a heaping mound of smoking bacon when she realized her most important prisoner was missing.

Reese, too, was worrying about smoking bacon mounds when he eventually peeked into his pocket and found it empty—which was why he broke the top off a nearby pine tree, carved it into a vaguely female shape, stuck some straw on it for hair, wrapped a little sheet around it for a dress, and placed it inside Ella’s cell, hoping Zaubera wouldn’t notice.

Ella, meanwhile, was racing through the thick, monster-filled forests of an unfamiliar country. She gave no thought to the potential dangers. There were five prison towers to find. And five people to rescue. Her heart beat rapidly, not out of fear, but with excitement.

8

P
RINCE
C
HARMING
I
S
A
FRAID OF THE
D
ARK

N
ot even Duncan’s sunny disposition was enough to ward off the epic storm that broke over central Sylvaria. As torrents of heavy rain pelted them from above, the four princes galloped through the forest on unhappy horses. A new boom of thunder shook the earth every few seconds, and wild winds whipped loose tree limbs across the riders’ path. In the sudden and pervasive darkness, the once cheery woodlands took on a more threatening tone.

“Up ahead!” yelled Liam, who was leading the way. “A house, just beyond those trees!”

The horses skidded to a muddy stop in front of a small cottage. It was the kind of place where you’d expect to find a little old gingham-clad grandmother stirring a pot of porridge or gruel or some other pastelike food. Frederic pointed out a small stable behind the building, and the princes led their mounts into it. The men hopped down onto the hay-strewn ground but could barely see one another in the darkness. Soon, however, there was a rustle of movement and a flash of light.

“Look what I found,” Duncan said proudly, holding a lantern.

“Lucky, huh?” Frederic smiled.

“Wait, what’s your game, Mini-Cape?” Gustav barked accusatorily at Duncan. “Why aren’t you wet?” While the other three men were dripping, Duncan was—aside from damp leggings—noticeably dry.

“The wind blew Liam’s cape over my head,” Duncan offered apologetically.

Gustav grumbled something very unprincely about capes.

“Duncan, bring your lantern,” he ordered. “Let’s go to the main house.”

The door of the cottage was open, so the princes stepped inside. The soft lantern light revealed the one-room house to be utterly empty—nothing to see but bare floorboards and the occasional dead fly.

“Plenty of space for somersaults,” Duncan said.

“No beds,” Frederic added glumly. “So much for finally getting a good night’s sleep.”

“No fireplace either,” said Liam. “It’s going to take a while for us to dry out.”

“Wimps,” Gustav muttered.

“It won’t be the most comfortable place to hole up for the night, but it’s better than being out in the storm,” Liam said.

With a clank and a thud, Gustav plopped himself onto the floor. Liam wrung out his cape before doing the same. With a “Good night, fellow princes,” Duncan blew out the lantern’s flame, throwing the room into pitch blackness.

Frederic curled himself into a tight ball. “Well, it’s not like this will be the first unpleasant night I’ve had since being on the road with you, Gustav,” he said.

“That’s right. We’ve slept in worse places,” Gustav replied. “And you haven’t heard me complain once, have you?”

“You complained when I wiped the gooseberries off your face,” Frederic said.

“That was an invasion of my personal space,” Gustav retorted.

“I’m sorry, but there was a huge glop of berries stuck to your cheek. Was I supposed to leave it there?” Frederic said. “It was like that scene from
Sir Bertram the Dainty and the Disheveled Duke
where the duke had spinach stuck between his teeth and—”

“I
love
Sir Bertram!” Duncan gushed. “Did you read the one where he had to find those lost lobster bibs before all the dinner guests reached their second course?”

“
The Mystery of the Mystical Gravy Boat
,” Frederic gleefully confirmed. “That’s one of my favorites.”

Frederic and Duncan continued to jabber on excitedly about Sir Bertram. Neither of them had ever met another person who shared his wild enthusiasm for the dandy adventurer.

“This is going to be a long night,” Gustav groaned.

“I thought you never complained,” Liam said.

“Shut up, Baron von Cape,” Gustav said. “Or I’ll make you sleep between the two yippity-yappers.”

Eventually, exhaustion won out and all four princes fell asleep.

Liam was in the middle of a dream in which the people of Erinthia were holding a “We Want You Back” carnival—women were throwing flowers to him, dancers were reenacting his battle with the evil fairy, his parents were leading the crowd in a cheer, and Briar Rose was nowhere to be seen—when he was awakened by a sudden, bright light.

“Douse that flame, Duncan, we’re trying to sleep,” he mumbled, his eyes still half-closed.

“I don’t know who Duncan is,” said the hulking, deep-voiced man holding the lit lantern. “But if he’s also trespassin’ in my house, I’ll pound ’im the same way I’m gonna pound you.”

A lean, wiry man with a beaklike nose and a thin, wispy mustache raised a second lantern. “Well, whaddaya know, Horace,” the smaller stranger said in a nasal voice. “Looks like we got visitors.”

The other princes began to stir.

Fig. 20 HORACE and NEVILLE

“Hold back,” Liam cautioned as he stood up. “We mean no harm. If you’ll let us explain—”

“Starf it all,” Gustav snarled, and leapt at the beefy Horace.

“Gustav, no!” Liam shouted. “
We
are the trespassers here. We need to hear these fellows out.” But Gustav was already pummeling Horace.

“A little help here, Neville?” the massive Horace requested of his companion, as he blocked Gustav’s flurry of punches.

Neville, the hawk-nosed man, called over his shoulder: “Boys! Get in here!”

Suddenly eight more men—all dressed in the black garb of thieves—rushed into the room. “Bandits,” Liam hissed as he reached for his sword.

“Scoop ’em up,” Neville ordered, and stepped back to let his band of brigands do the dirty work. Frederic—for whom waking up was always a challenge—only managed to blearily say, “Five more minutes, Reginald,” before two of the attackers had a rope around him.

Duncan jumped to his feet and began quivering with nervous excitement. “Oh, my goodness! Is this a fight?” he cried. “I’ve never seen a real fight before! Is this a fight?”

Two of the bandits threw a large sack over his head and yanked him down. “No, this is
not
a fight,” one of them chuckled.

Meanwhile, with sword in hand, Liam was facing off against four bandits at once. The first charged him, swinging a wooden club. Liam deflected it with his blade as he kicked a second bandit into the wall. The third attacker dove at the prince’s legs, but Liam jumped just in time to avoid him. As he landed boots-first on the back of the diving bandit, Liam banged the handle of his sword over the head of the man with the club, sending him to the ground as well. The fourth bandit, afraid to get too close, hurled a dagger at Liam. But the prince swung his sword and batted the knife back at the man who’d thrown it. The handle of the dagger slammed into the bandit’s forehead and knocked him out.

Panting, Liam looked around the room. Frederic was quivering on the floor with his hands and feet tied together. Duncan appeared to be inside a large bag. But where was…

Gustav came flying through the air—tossed like a javelin by the hulking Horace. Gustav’s big, armored body slammed into Liam and bowled him over. In a ball of arms and legs, the two princes looked up to see bandits surround them on all sides.

“We can take them,” Gustav said, right before Horace slammed the two princes’ heads together. Everything went black.

9

P
RINCE
C
HARMING
I
S A
W
ANTED
M
AN