The Hero's Guide to Saving Your Kingdom (33 page)

“CAN YOU HEAR ME NOW?” Rauber screamed into Liam’s face. “I AM NOT STUPID!”

That’s when Liam thrust his upper body forward and head-butted the Bandit King as hard as he could. Rauber toppled backward off the kneeling henchman and lay unconscious on his back in the grass.

The bandits were stunned. “Now’s your chance, Horace!” Liam said, shaking off the ringing in his ears. “Get him while he’s down. Take control while you can.”

Horace’s head was spinning as well—metaphorically, that is. “I don’t get you, Prince,” he said cautiously. “First you try to get me in trouble, then you try to help me.”

“I’ve been
helping
you the whole time,” Liam said. He knew he had to talk fast and get himself and Duncan out of there before Rauber woke up. “Let’s team up here, Horace. I’m on your side.”

“My side, huh? The heroic prince wants to join the Bandit Army?” Horace asked suspiciously. “Not likely.”

“Of course he doesn’t want to join you,” Duncan chimed in. “I’ve gotten to know this man pretty well in the past several days, and believe me, there’s nothing more important to him than being a hero.”

“Hey, Horace, don’t listen to this guy,” Liam said. He prayed that Duncan would not ruin his strategy. “Duncan—or whatever his name is—barely knows me.”

“Don’t be so modest, Liam. You’re the biggest hero there is,” Duncan went on, flashing his friend a wink. “Or at least, he used to be. Everybody hates him now, ever since he dumped Sleeping Beauty.”

“Oh, that’s right; that was you,” Horace said with a bemused smile. “Maybe you
should
join us. Heh-heh.”

“But it tears him apart that people don’t treat him like a hero anymore,” Duncan said. He was through standing around and waiting for his imaginary luck to save the day. From now on, he was in command of his own destiny. “Liam’s been looking for some way to make everybody love him again. And what could be a greater victory for any hero than to capture the notorious Bandit King? My pal, Prince Liam, wants to be the one to get the glory for tossing Deeb Rauber in a dungeon. You see? So we have a little proposition for you.”

“Oh, I get it,” Horace said with a knowing nod. “You want me to give you the Bandit King, all wrapped-up-like, with a shiny bow an’ everything. But what could you give me in return that’s gonna be better than the whoppin’ ransom I could get for you?”

“Well, first of all, in case you weren’t paying attention: Everybody hates me,” Liam said. “You’re not going to get much of a ransom from my people—that’s for sure. And besides, wouldn’t you trade a few loads of ransom money for an
entire kingdom?
Because that’s what I’ll give you in return: Sturmhagen.”

Horace chuckled. “The old lady’s already going to give us Sturmhagen.”

“The old lady’s dead,” Liam said.

Horace’s eyes widened. “Explain.”

“Look inside my right pants pocket, the long one on the side,” Liam said.

Horace seemed skeptical.

“You’ll find the witch’s ransom notes in there,” Liam said. “We intercepted them.”

Horace motioned for one of the other bandits to check Liam’s pocket. “It’s true,” the bandit reported, rerolling the scroll he’d checked and slipping it back into Liam’s long pocket.

“We found out about the witch’s plan, snuck into her fortress overnight, and slew her in her sleep,” Liam said. “Why do you think we were back in these woods, wearing these black clothes?”

Horace was dumbstruck.

“So, you’re not taking over Sturmhagen anytime soon,” Liam said. “At least not with the witch’s help. But I can offer you another way in the door.”

“Whaddaya got?” Horace said, scratching his stubbly scalp.

“If I show up at Castle Sturmhagen with Rauber as my captive, I’ll be the biggest hero they’ve ever had. They’ll worship me. And they’ll sure as heck send their entire army with me if I tell them there’s a massive threat in, say, Frostheim or some other far-off place. Do you see what I’m saying? I’ll empty the castle for you. All you and your men need to do is waltz in there and kick out the royal couple. Voilà! You’re the new ruler of Sturmhagen. It’s a win-win: I get the glory, you get the kingdom. So do we have a deal?”

Horace scratched his large, squarish chin. “That’s a plan worthy of the little man himself. You’re even more vicious than those stories about you let on. If you’re tellin’ the truth, that is. Why should I believe you?”

“Because I need an enemy, Horace,” Liam said. “People have short memories. In a matter of time, they’ll forget all about the Man Who Captured the Bandit King. I’ll need to perform some new heroic feat to get their attention again. And those opportunities are harder to come by than you think. That’s why I want you out there, being as villainous as you can be. I can’t be a hero if there’s no one left to fight. So, after you’re seated on the throne of Sturmhagen, am I going to come after you? The answer is yes. You need to ask yourself if you can beat me when I do.”

Horace twirled his massive club in the air. He was grinning from ear to ear. “Cut ’em down, boys. And tie up the
ex
-Bandit King. Good and tight.”

Several bandits quickly swarmed over to the trees and severed the ropes that held Liam and Duncan. Back on the ground, the princes stretched their stiff limbs.

“Thank you, Duncan,” Liam whispered to his friend. “You said exactly what he needed to hear to believe I would turn traitor.”

“I had no idea that was what he was going to think,” Duncan whispered back, his eyes agog. “I was about to challenge him to another duel.”

“Well, I’m sure that would have worked, too,” Liam said, and breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe it had been safer when Duncan was saving the day
unintentionally
.

“And Liam,” Duncan began sheepishly, “we’re not really going to…”

“No, Duncan. We’re not. Don’t worry.”

“Whew. I figured that. It’s just that, you know—lying, sarcasm—there are so many new ways of talking that I have to get used to.”

“Nice doing business with you,
Your Highness
,” Liam said, as they approached Horace. “So, you’re going to let us leave here peacefully?”

“I’m a man of my word,” Horace said as he laid his massive club down on the ground and walked over to shake Liam’s hand. “See you in a few months, eh?” Horace added with a wink.

A low rumble rose up in the distance.

“Funny. Doesn’t look like rain,” Duncan said, holding out a hand to feel for drops.

The rumbling grew steadily louder, and the ground started to tremble. Liam, Duncan, Horace, and all the other bandits stopped what they were doing to peer toward the eastern edge of the field.

“What’s going on?” Horace asked.

Suddenly a wave of flapping, flowing greenness burst forth from the trees.

“It looks like a big, angry salad,” Duncan said in awe.

“Trolls. Scores of them!” Liam said.

“And look! Two of them are carrying dolls shaped like Gustav and Frederic,” Duncan shouted.

“It
is
Gustav and Frederic,” Liam said. “Unbelievable.”

“Backstabber!” Horace growled at Liam. “You tricked me.”

“Ha!
He’s
a backstabber?” a reedy voice called out from behind Horace. “Look who’s talking!” It was Rauber. He’d woken up while several bandits argued fearfully over which of them would have to tie him up. With everyone distracted by the trolls, nobody noticed him get to his feet and grab Horace’s enormous wooden club.

“But, sir—!” That was all Horace had a chance to say before Rauber swung and smashed the club into the side of his head. With a sickening thud, the hulking man collapsed at the feet of the wickedly grinning ten-year-old boy. Rauber stuck out his tongue, just to rub it in.

“That boy is dangerous, Liam!” Duncan cried in horror. “I think he killed Horace!”

The trolls thrashed their way into the camp, trampling tents and toppling big wooden wagons. The monsters overturned pots of gruel, ripped flagpoles from the ground, and punched holes through barrels of ale, howling madly as they wreaked their havoc. Within seconds, they were clashing with the bandits, tossing them about mercilessly. Poor Neville, still dangling from his pole, was batted back and forth by two trolls in an impromptu game of human tetherball.

“Forget about Rauber,” Liam said to Duncan. “Just get ready to run.”

“Where?” Duncan asked (and Liam was proud of him for thinking to ask that question).

“To the horses,” Liam urged as Rauber charged toward them with the club raised over his head. “Go. Now!”

Duncan sprinted away as Liam turned to face Rauber. The Bandit King was about to clobber him, when Liam thrust a booted foot forward and kicked him square in the chest. Rauber fell to his knees and doubled over.

“Ow!” he yowled, clutching his chest. “I can’t believe you kicked a little kid! Real noble, man.” He let out a pitiful moan. Liam saw a tear come to Rauber’s eye, and he felt a twinge of guilt. He stepped forward and offered the boy his hand.

“Can you stand?” Liam asked.

“Sure, I can. Can you?” Rauber sneered, and whipped his club into the side of Liam’s knee. The painful jolt sent Liam to the ground, clutching his leg. Rauber jumped to his feet, cackling with glee. He raised the club for another blow, but before he could strike, a raging gang of trolls barreled into him. Before Liam had a chance to blink, the Bandit King was gone.

A second later, another mob of trolls tramped by. Liam wiggled out of the way, narrowly dodging their clomping footsteps.

“Troll, stop!” came a shout from above.

One troll came to a halt mere inches before stepping on Liam. Liam looked up to see Gustav mounted on the creature’s shaggy shoulders.

“Troll no step on Squirmy Man?” the troll asked.

“That’s right, Troll,” Gustav said. “Squirmy Man is with us.”

The troll reached down and hoisted Liam up to Gustav’s level.

“Having a good time?” Liam asked.

“I would normally respond with something sarcastic,” Gustav said. “But you know, this is really pretty awesome.”

“Where’s Frederic?” Liam asked.

“He’s on Mr. Troll somewhere.”

“
Mister
Troll?”

“You heard right,” Gustav said. He leaned down. “Hey, Troll, can you get this guy a ride, too?”

Gustav’s hunchbacked troll tapped a passing five-horned troll. “Troll,” it called to its fellow monster. “’Nother human need ride. His name Squirmy Man.”

The five-horned troll flipped Liam onto its back.

“Thank you,” Liam said, “but my name’s not Squirmy Man.”

“Too late,” Gustav said with a chuckle.

From atop the troll’s shoulders, Liam could see that the bandit army was nearly decimated. Terrified criminals were being hurled through the air left and right.

Mr. Troll loped over. He himself had an unconscious bandit in each of his big, clawed hands—and Frederic clamped onto his shoulders in a piggyback of terror.

“Ouching Man, this the other
nice
human you talk about?” Mr. Troll asked, pointing at Liam.

“Ouching Man, huh?” Liam asked.

Frederic inched his ashen face out from behind Mr. Troll’s head to sneak a peek. “Yes, that’s one of them,” he confirmed. “Hi, Liam.”

“Look, I can’t begin to understand what’s happening here, but I think I’m happy about it,” Liam said. “I sent Duncan over by the horses. But now I see horses everywhere. We should go find him.” Dozens of horses were indeed running wild, adding to the commotion in the camp.

“Come on, trolls,” Gustav said.

“Please try not to bounce so much,” Frederic squeaked, and buried his face back into Mr. Troll’s fur.

The three trolls pummeled their way through the remaining bandits over to the row of trees where the horses had been tied. Doing his part to help thwart the bandit army, Duncan had set every single horse free. It occurred to him too late, though, that he probably should not have untied the princes’ horses as well. Now, so as not to lose track of Thunderbreaker, Gwendolyn, or Seventeen, he was attempting to ride all three of them at once.

“Oh, good,” Duncan cried when he saw his friends. “I’m so glad you’re here. I don’t think I can keep this up much longer.” He was lying across the backs of all three horses, with one set of reins wrapped around his hands, another around his waist, and the last around his feet.

“Somehow, that is exactly the position I imagined we’d find him in,” Gustav said.

The trolls set down the grateful princes, and Frederic and Gustav helped Duncan untangle himself. Rauber’s army was in really bad shape. Most of the bandits were curled up on the grass with dislocated shoulders, twisted ankles, broken legs, or worse. The luckier ones were out cold. All around them, the trolls were still joyously smashing things. They tore open wardrobe crates and played tug-of-war with all the black leather pants they found. They dashed weapon racks to bits and shredded bandit flags. A few of them found the camp’s food storage and ran off, giggling, with armfuls of stolen leeks.

“Well, that’s one problem taken care of,” Liam said.

“Yes, trolls will keep broken bandits locked up, so broken bandits not bother Ouching Man and his friends,” Mr. Troll croaked happily. “Then trolls just wait for Prince Angry Man to give trolls land.”

Liam looked at Gustav (who he easily guessed was Prince Angry Man).

“We’ll explain later,” Gustav said.

“I just wish I knew what happened to Rauber,” Liam said. “I don’t see him anywhere.”

“Oh, guys, look what else I grabbed,” Duncan called out, holding out four new swords. In a welcome change of pace, these blades were sized for normal human hands. “The bandits didn’t seem to need them anymore.”

“And we’ve got our horses back,” Frederic said, petting Gwendolyn.

“And muskrat steaks,” Duncan added, holding up a drippy backpack. “Although I’m not sure if that’s something to be happy about. They smell even worse than before.”

“So, gentlemen,” Liam said. “I believe we have some bards to rescue.”

The men mounted their horses.

“I don’t know why you didn’t keep one of the bandits’ horses for yourself,” Liam said as Duncan nestled in behind him on Thunderbreaker.