The Runaway Princess (22 page)

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Authors: Kate Coombs

BOOK: The Runaway Princess
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The kings exchanged guilty glances. “Certainly,” said Tark.
“Splendid idea,” Jal put in.
At a signal from the queen, the gates opened wide.
At a signal from the kings, the army surrounding the castle fell back a bit.
The queen caught sight of Nort. “Ah, my young retainer,” she said. Her sharp eyes focused on Lex. “And his delightful companion. Won't you join us?”
King Jal frowned. “If I'm not mistaken, that boy's a wizard.”
“Yes,” Istilda said. “Perhaps he might be of use.”
Lex and Nort followed the monarchs into the castle.
 
In the late afternoon sunlight, dust blew across the farmyard. A handful of chickens squawked anxiously,
scattering into the grass by the fence. White curtains blew softly out of open windows. The scene lacked only hoofbeats. It got footbeats instead, as Vantor and his men tramped up to the fence, knocking the gate right down.
“You five keep the king and his fops over there by the barn,” Vantor ordered. “If I don't come out with the princess, you know what to do.”
“Leave Meg alone!” Dilly cried, struggling against one of her captors.
“Gag that one, too,” Vantor added.
The guards pushed their prisoners toward the barn. “Move along!”
Vantor strode across the yard, then struck a proud pose before the house. “Princess, come out!” he commanded in deep, royal tones.
Meg stuck her head out the window. “You've got to be kidding!” she said. Meg pulled her head back in and slammed the shutters.
“Um, Vantor's here,” she told the others.
“That arrogant lout?” Janna demanded.
Meg nodded. “I'm not going anywhere with him!”
Vantor was yelling something outside the door. They could hear footsteps as the prince's men surrounded the house.
“Close the shutters!” Janna cried. The four of them hurried to secure the windows. Just in time, as heavy fists struck the shutters from the outside. The large room was gloomy now, bereft of sunlight.
“I won't let him take you,” Cam said, snatching a toasting fork.
“You really need a knife,” Meg told Cam.
“What weapons have we got?” Janna asked, looking around.
“Magic.” Gorba flexed her wrinkled hands.
Meg felt the warm weight against her leg. “The dragon.”
“That scarf of yours,” Janna said.
“Frogs,” Cam remarked, rolling his eyes.
Someone was banging on the door, but the farmhouse was sturdily built, and the door held.
“Come open a window for me,” Gorba said to Cam, and he quickly obliged. Gorba stuck her head out. “Boo!” the witch said. The man outside reached in, but Gorba touched him, hissing an incantation. The attacker turned an amazing shade of pink and sprouted tentacles. He fell to the ground gurgling. Cam slammed the window shut.
“Can you do that to all of them?” Meg asked hopefully.
Gorba shook her head. “Takes a lot of magic. But it might scare a few of them off.” Indeed, that particular window had gone rather quiet.
Then something struck the door harder, again and again. The tip of an ax appeared through the wood.
“Uh-oh,” said Meg.
“With my own ax!” an indignant Janna cried.
“We need an army,” Cam said.
Meg shrugged. “The frogs could jump on their heads.”
“That's it, girl!” Gorba smiled maniacally.
“What's it?” Meg asked.
“We
have
an army!”
KING TARK SLAMMED HIS TEACUP DOWN ON THE table, where it shattered into minute rose-patterned pieces. The king turned red. “I'm sorry,” he said, flustered. His jaw jutted. “But this Vantor is a disgrace to the name of prince.”
King Jal nodded. “He must be stopped.”
“After all,” Queen Istilda pointed out, “it wouldn't do to set a precedent like this.”
The two kings considered the implications of her words. Then Jal spoke. “We'll take care of the young upstart.”
Tark cleared his throat. “There is another matter, the one that brought us to your fair dwelling.”
Jal gazed around at the castle with a faintly disappointed air. “Right. Our sons.”
“We received word that our boys had been enchanted,” Tark went on.
“That fellow at the gate said frogs,” Jal added.
Istilda sighed. “I'm afraid our contestants' efforts to deal with the witch went badly.” Both men opened their mouths to speak, but she lifted her hand, and they subsided. “We must rescue not only my husband and daughter but your sons.”
“Where is the witch?” Tark asked.
“I don't know,” the queen admitted.
“Now, look here—” Jal began.
“But I believe this young man can help us discover her hiding place,” Istilda said.
Everyone turned to look at Lex. He smiled, giving them a little wave.
“Well?” Her Majesty asked.
“Oh, sure. I can do that,” Lex said.
 
The ax came clear through the door as Gorba hurried over to the row of milk pails. “Boys,” she said in the tones of a general, “we need your help.”
“Against a foul …” said Meg.
“ … treacherous …” said Cam.
“ … unworthy prince!” Janna finished.
The frogs stuck their heads up. Gorba whirled her hands, calling, “Princilio Heroish Ribbet!”
Suddenly the room was full of princes. Meg was relieved to see that they were all dressed, though some of their doublets resembled the ones in the oldest family portraits. Tall princes, short princes, fat and skinny princes, each one looking a little stunned.
“To battle!” Gorba cried.
None of the princes had any weapons, unfortunately. Janna began to arm them with fire pokers and spatulas. And not a moment too soon, as the door and most of the windows gave way. The transformed frogs took vigilant battle stances.
An instant later, Vantor and his men burst into the house, expecting to find a girl and a few farm folk.
Instead they faced a ring of angry princes.
Vantor stopped short. Then he smirked. “They have no swords!” Vantor stabbed at the nearest prince with his own sword, only to find air as the frog prince leaped right over his head. Vantor spun around. The prince kicked him hard in the chest with long, strong legs. Vantor fell. When he got up, the prince gave him a wide smile and jumped away to find another foe.
Vantor moved to follow, but a second prince tapped him on the shoulder with a wire whisk, and he was forced to defend himself again.
All through the room, frog princes were leaping and kicking, spinning and slamming and slashing and bashing.
Vantor's men weren't doing very well.
Some of them managed to corner Gorba behind the stove, but she kept reaching out to poke them with a large wooden spoon. One fell in a heap and started snoring. Another began reciting the
Epic of Lanolan
and couldn't stop himself. A third shrank down to a twelve-year-old boy, sprouting a ripe faceful of pimples.
Cam and Janna knelt behind the kitchen table,
throwing chili pepper into the noses of anyone who came near. Janna's cats yowled encouragement from the rafters.
The scarf got into the spirit of things, too, biting dozens of ears and noses and driving a terrified Beaknose out into the night.
As for Meg, she wielded a mean dragon.
Hit his knees!
she thought, barely managing to support chubby Laddy as she aimed him. Laddy obligingly spouted a gout of flame. The man who was lunging toward the princess fell back, howling.
The fight whirled through the room, breaking Janna's favorite pitcher, scattering firewood, and knocking over all but one of the milk pails, so that pond water spilled everywhere and the combatants found themselves sliding about. On the slick floor Vantor's men lost their balance, but the frog princes grew even more agile, gliding and spinning like ice skaters.
Soon nearly all of Vantor's men were down, many of them with smug princes sitting on their backs as if they were so many lily pads.
But Vantor fought on. Meg watched him battle one prince after another, managing to wound three of the former frogs. Meg was surprised to see that their blood was red, not green. Meg tugged Laddy closer to Vantor.
Toes!
she thought. Fire licked across the room. Vantor began to hop madly from one foot to the other. Still he slashed at the farm's defenders.
Sword!
Meg thought, inspired. The next blast lit Vantor's
weapon an incandescent red. He dropped it, howling, as two princes leaped across the room, knocking him down. It took three more to subdue him. He kept thrashing about, screaming imprecations.
Janna brought some rope from a cupboard. She and Cam helped the frog princes tie Vantor and his men up. Meg's friends used extra rope on Vantor. He stopped yelling only because they threatened to gag him. The prince was reduced to muttering darkly.
Across the room, Gorba's victims were still snoring and reciting and bursting out in pimples. Meg asked the witch to end the spells so those men could be tied up, too.
Finally Meg put down her dragon and walked up to Vantor. She had to tilt her head to look him in the eye. “I won the contest. I found the dragon—the live dragon,” she said pointedly, “before you did, and took him away. I have the witch. That's two out of three. What's more, I have myself. Making three out of four, actually.” She paused. “What have you got?”
Vantor smiled crookedly. “The king,” he sneered. “Checkmate.”
“Where is he?” Meg demanded.
“My men have him. If you come with me, they'll let him live.”
“Not for long,” Gorba remarked.
“Quiet, hag!” Vantor said.
“Hag?” Gorba said ominously, but someone else was speaking.
“Did I miss all the fun?” Bain leaned in the shattered doorway with a roguish grin.
 
The kings of Lors and Tarylon rode alongside Lex and Nort and the queen, for whom they'd kindly provided horses. Behind them, two hundred soldiers marched rank on rank. The queen had left the head housekeeper in charge of the castle, asking Dorn and Dagle to assist her. The twin princes had agreed unwillingly, wanting to join in the rescue effort themselves.
“I don't understand,” King Jal said again, tapping his horse's flanks with his heels. “The witch is with the princess, but she isn't holding her captive?”
“The witch is a friend of Meg's,” Lex said.
“You are speaking of the same witch who turned my boy into a frog?” Tark asked harshly.
Nort moved his horse a bit farther from the angry king as he attempted to explain. “Dilly says the witch warned the princes away, but they all jumped on her, so Gorba had to use her frog spell.”
“Who is this Dilly person, and why are you defending the witch?” Jal demanded.
“A moment,” said Queen Istilda. “I believe the young people are trying to tell us that the witch isn't hostile, and will easily be persuaded to return her prisoners to their natural state.”
“That's right,” Nort said, feeling less alarmed.
“I like the sound of that,” said King Tark. “Counterspells can be a bear.”
“Unlikely,” Lex said, “though I once saw a counterspell that was a hummingbird.” But no one was listening.
 
Meg's mouth dropped open at the sight of the bandit.
“You
dare
to show your face here?” Vantor snarled.
“This from a true prince”—Bain wagged his finger—“who's been truly naughty.”
Vantor jerked against the ropes, but they held.
“Four out of four,” Meg murmured to Vantor. He hissed like an enraged basilisk.
Bain turned his attention to Meg. “I found someone you know outside, but he was keeping bad company. I'm afraid Feg and I had to knock a few heads together.” He looked around the room. “Much like yourselves, it appears.”
Bain stepped inside. King Stromgard's form filled the doorway. “Daughter, you're safe!” the king cried.
“Yes, Father.”
The king hurried to Meg and gave her a suffocating hug. “Had me scared, Meg,” he muttered into her hair.
“I know,” Meg squeaked. Her father released her with a sigh of relief. “You called me Meg,” she said.
“Did I?” The king smiled.
Meg heard voices outside. Dilly and a handful of the king's courtiers pushed through the door. The prime minister hung back behind the rest.
Dilly ran to Meg and hugged her. “How could you let that fool prince capture you?” Dilly scolded.
“Fool prince?” said Vantor with royal disdain. Everyone
turned to stare at him. “What are you going to do now?” he inquired.
“I'm within my rights to have you hanged,” said King Stromgard.
“And start a war with my brother?” Vantor asked, still menacing.
“I've a better idea,” Gorba said, muttering as she stepped forward to touch the prince. He fell to the floor, a large, vomit-colored frog. After a shocked moment, he made as if to hop into the one milk pail that hadn't been tipped over.
“No,” Gorba said. The frog looked back at her. “You're on your own,” the witch said.
Vantor hopped sullenly toward the door and out across the farmyard. “If you see that one around, kill him,” Janna told her cats, who had descended from their perch on the rafters.
“Thank you,” Stromgard said to Gorba with a royal bow. “I apologize for disturbing your household this past week.”
“Well,” Gorba said, flustered, “see that you don't do it again.”
“Never, madam.”
Gorba beamed.
The king faced his daughter now. “Margaret, you were right. I'm …” He took a deep breath. “I'm sorry I didn't listen to you.”
Meg felt her face grow warm. “I'm just glad you're
safe,” she said, realizing that it was true. “Where's Mother?”
“She escaped. I was hoping she would get word to Hanak.” The king stooped suddenly. “Who's this?”
Laddy, exhausted by all the flame-throwing, managed to lift his firelit eyes to the king. The king scratched the dragon's head, and the creature rumbled contentedly. “That's a good boy,” His Majesty crooned. “The dragon left a baby?”
Meg shrugged. “I found him. Crawling through his mother's hoard.”
“More than one chest, I presume,” King Stromgard said ruefully.
“Eleven, I think. Large ones.”
The king stood up. “Which reminds me—”
But Bain was gone.
Not even Meg noticed three sparks drifting through the room like golden dust motes.
 
King Stromgard soon sent his nobles off to the castle to find the queen. The frog princes took their prisoners out to the barn, where they discovered Bain's five captives already neatly bound. The princes set a guard. They found the pink-tentacled man and brought him to Gorba, who was busy dressing the wounds of the injured princes. Then they put the house in order while Janna tried to make enough dinner for everyone.
“Those boys were easier to feed when they were
frogs,” Janna told King Stromgard, who hovered over the soup pot while Meg and Cam set the table. There weren't enough bowls for them all. Janna had to bring out mugs and small pans to serve up the soup.
At last the princes were perched about the house eating dinner, having insisted that the ladies and the king take the chairs at the kitchen table. The princes appeared to have forgotten their table manners, slurping dreadfully, but no one complained. Everyone was too glad of their help.
As for Laddy, he got his very own bowl of soup.
“The Battle of Hookhorn Farm,” Meg murmured.
“What?” Janna said.
“We should name the fight, like in a history book.”
“The Defense of the Princess,” Janna suggested.

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