Читать книгу The Hero’s Guide to Storming the Castle - Christopher Healy - Страница 12

Planning is an essential skill for any hero. If you begin something and don’t know how to end it, then, well . . .

—THE HERO’S GUIDE TO BEING A HERO

“o you think they’ll show?” Ella asked. She and Frederic crouched within a small circle of elms outside the back gates of Avondell Palace.

“I hope so,” Frederic said. “I’ve been seeing guests go in through the front gates all morning. The wedding is probably going to begin soon.”

“C’mon, where are you guys?” Ella muttered under her breath as she peered anxiously between the trees.

“Well, whatever happens, these past few days have been quite enjoyable,” Frederic said. “You and I, dashing across the countryside together, holding secret meetings and such. Very exciting, no? Almost makes me wish it didn’t all have to end in a perilous prison break.”

Ella was barely listening. “Look, Frederic, the others are no-shows. You and I have to do this alone.” She patted the sword hanging at her side and saw Frederic tremble slightly. “Take it easy, Frederic. We can—” A figure appeared suddenly between them as if erupting from the very air itself. Ella reacted on instinct, shoving Frederic out of the way and hauling off with a gut punch that knocked the intruder flat on his back.

“Your messages have been delivered, sir, Your Highness, sir,” Smimf wheezed from the grass where he lay.

“Oh, my goodness,” Ella exclaimed. “I’m so sorry!”

“My fault,” Smimf said, holding his belly. “Got to learn not to startle people like that. I did it to my grandmother once, and she reacted the same way. Only she’s got a metal hand.”

A second later, a dappled horse galloped out of the trees, with Duncan at the reins. “Oh, dear!” Duncan cried when he saw Frederic and Ella bent over the fallen messenger. “That boy ran so fast he melted, didn’t he?”

“I’m fine, sir, Your Highness, sir,” Smimf said as Ella pulled him back to his feet.

“Duncan!” Frederic shouted.

“Frederic!” Duncan exclaimed. And promptly fell off his horse. He scrambled to his feet and enveloped Frederic in a hug.

“It’s so good to see you,” Frederic said.

“Likewise,” Duncan replied. “You’re exactly how I remember you. But in different clothes.”

“Thank you for coming, Duncan,” Ella said.

“Oh, I’d do anything for my friends,” Duncan said with a goofy grin. “Um, what are we doing again?”

Ella pointed to a large wall just outside the trees that was decorated with huge mosaic rainbows. “We have to break into that palace garden before Briar Rose marries Liam,” she said.

“Weddings always make me cry,” Duncan said.

“Duncan, we’re not here to see the wedding,” Frederic said. “We’re here to stop it.”

Duncan shrugged. “I still might cry.”

“Oh, by the way, sir, Your Highness, sir,” Smimf said. “Prince Gustav told me to tell you that he would be here as well.”

“Timely news delivery, Short-Pants,” Gustav said as he rode up on his warhorse. The brawny prince’s armor clattered as he jumped to the ground. “So when do we get to fight?”

Duncan rushed in for a hug, but Gustav sidestepped, allowing his friend to face-plant into a nearby tree. Feeling slightly bad about this, Gustav treated Duncan to a pat on the head. Duncan was satisfied.

“Hey, Mr. Mini-Cape, I see you’ve got yourself a ride this time,” Gustav said, noticing Duncan’s horse.

“Ah, yes,” Duncan said. “Allow me to introduce Papa Scoots Jr. As you surely remember, the original Papa Scoots ran away last year. I thought I’d never have a horse like that again. But as luck would have it, one autumn morning, this fine beast wandered into Papa Scoots’s old stable. To make it even more of a coincidence, he looks exactly like Papa Scoots! So I had to name him Papa Scoots Jr. It’s like fate.”

“Um, Duncan,” Frederic said tentatively. “Did you ever consider that maybe Papa Scoots just found his way back home? That this is Papa Scoots?”

“Impossible,” Duncan said. “Papa Scoots hated me.” And with that, Papa Scoots Jr. kicked Duncan into a bush.

“All right, we’ve got business to attend to,” Gustav said. “Enough horsing around.”

Frederic chuckled. “That was funny, Gustav.”

Gustav frowned. “It wasn’t meant to be. What are we waiting for? I heard you guys say the wedding was going to start any minute now. How do we get in?”

“Well, for that we need one more person,” Frederic said. A rustling rose from some nearby shrubbery. “I hope that’s her now.”

Lila struggled between two bushes, snagging her very expensive-looking magenta gown on several branches as she did (not that it seemed to bother her at all). “Hey, you’re all here,” the girl said happily.

Lila, Liam’s tweenage sister, shared her bother’s coffee-toned complexion and green eyes. She had the sleeves of her gown rolled up, and her chestnut hair curled into tight ringlets that bounced like little springs when she walked. (The hairstyle was completely her mother’s idea.)

Ella and Frederic introduced her to the other princes.

“Lila has a way to sneak us into the wedding,” Frederic explained. “We knew that, as a member of the groom’s family, she would have an invitation. So we figured she’d be the perfect inside man—or girl—for this job.”

“Happy to do it,” Lila said. “Follow me, everybody. We don’t have much time. The music has started, and the circus people are already performing.”

“Circus people?” Frederic asked, suddenly looking as if someone had a sword pointed at his heart. “What circus?”

“Oh, it’ll be a great diversion, actually,” Lila said. “Briar’s got some acrobats from the Flimsham Brothers Circus warming up the crowd for her.”

“Flimsham?” Frederic gulped. He took a staggering step backward and gripped a nearby tree trunk for support. “I can’t go out there.”

“Why not?” Ella asked.

“El Stripo,” Frederic said.

Ella, Gustav, and Duncan responded with a collective “Ahhh.” They’d all heard the story of how King Wilberforce used El Stripo—the Flimsham Brothers’ talented circus tiger—to terrify Frederic when he was a little boy. The experience of being engulfed by the mouth of a raging tiger (even a toothless one) had scarred him for life.

“Don’t worry, Frederic. I’m sure that same tiger isn’t still with the circus,” Ella said. “Do tigers even live that long?”

“Not when I’m around,” Gustav quipped.

“Let’s work this out scientifically,” Duncan said, tapping a finger to his head. “A tiger is what you get when a cat and a zebra have a baby. Cats have an average lifespan of about ten years, while zebras get about twenty-five—”

“Guys!” Lila said sharply. “Anyone who’s part of this rescue needs to come with me now.” She turned and began to head through the trees.

“She’s right; let’s go,” Frederic said. He turned to Smimf. “I’ll pay you a bonus if you stay here and watch our horses.”

“Absolutely, sir, Your Highness, sir,” Smimf said. “I don’t think they’re going to do much. But I’ll watch.”

Frederic and the others trailed after Lila as she sneaked along the palace’s outer wall.

“I bribed a guard to open the back gate and then disappear, so that’s your way in,” Lila whispered. “The wedding is being held in the big garden behind all the animal-shaped hedges. They’ve already got Liam out there, chained to the altar.”

As soon as they were on the palace grounds, huddled together on a cobblestone path, Gustav closed the gate behind them. There was a loud clink as its bolt-lock fell back into place.

Lila frowned. “I hope that wasn’t your escape route,” she said.

Awkward pause.

“Oh, man,” Lila said, growing distraught. “You guys don’t actually know how you’re going to rescue Liam, do you?”

“Well,” Frederic said. “We figured out how to get inside the gates.”

“I got you inside the gates,” Lila said in a harsh whisper. “Me—the kid! What are you going to do from here?”

“Liam’s really the planner of our team,” Frederic said, trying to hide his face in the collar of his jacket.

Ella cleared her throat. This was the kind of test-your-mettle challenge she’d been longing for. A year earlier, when she fled Frederic’s palace in search of adventure, she had ended up getting more than her fair share of thrills. But despite several near-death experiences, she’d been aching for more action ever since. “Don’t worry, Lila. I can think quick on my feet. Remember how you and I dealt with those goblins last summer? We’ll figure this out, too. Trust me.”

Lila did trust Ella. “Okay,” she said. Suddenly the sounds of trumpets, drums, and glockenspiels filled the air, followed by explosive bursts of cannon fire.

“It’s starting!” Lila said. “I’ve got to get back to my seat. Good luck!” And she dashed off to find her place among the wedding guests.

Ella surveyed the rows upon rows of hedges cut to resemble animals like bobcats, dragons, elephants, and guinea pigs (generations of Avondellian royal gardeners had been working toward the goal of having a shrub shaped like every animal in existence; after seven decades of working alphabetically, they’d only gotten as far as “iguana”).

“Come on, we need to hurry,” Ella said brusquely. She drew her sword and headed for the topiary bushes.

“Wait, who put you in charge?” Gustav asked.

“The bards did,” Ella said.

Gustav huffed but scrambled after her anyway.

“What’s the plan?” Frederic asked.

“See that tree in the far corner? That’s our new escape route,” Ella said in the gruff tone she imagined all military commanders used. “We bust Liam out of his chains, climb that tree, and head back out over the wall.”

“And if anybody gets in our way?” Frederic asked.

“We knock them down,” Ella answered.

Gustav grinned. “I think I like you, Boss Lady.”

The quartet crawled between the legs of a buffalo-shaped hedge. From beneath the “belly” of the bush, they looked out on the wedding. At least five hundred silver chairs had been set up in the enormous garden, and every one of them held a dignified, important, and very wealthy guest. Behind the audience, practically hidden by massive arrangements of roses, orchids, lilies, and snapdragons, stood dozens of musicians playing what was presumably a wedding march. (The song sounded more like a battle hymn than a bridal tune, but hey, that’s Briar Rose. . . . ) In grandstand bleachers behind the band there were at least a thousand more guests—ordinary citizens of both Erinthia and Avondell who had paid nearly a year’s wages to attend the grand event.

Fig. 7 Decorative TOPIARIES

Above the crowd, tightrope walkers—all of whom were costumed to look like Briar Rose, complete with giant wigs—sashayed along a pair of high wires that ran from the palace roof to the top of the wisteria-covered pergola behind the altar. Below them, along a long red carpet that ran down a wide center aisle, acrobats in formal wear cartwheeled in time to the orchestra music, while top-hatted clowns pretended to pluck large, lustrous rubies from the ears of audience members.

The red carpet ended at a raised altar, on which stood Liam, dressed in an exquisite royal-blue tunic and shimmering white cape trimmed with gold filigree. But his attire was the only elegant thing about him. His shoulders were slumped, his head drooped nearly to his chest, and his normally stylish hair hung limply over his face. His left leg was chained to the decoratively carved oak pulpit that rose up from the center of the altar.

“I love the cape,” Duncan said. “But the rest of him looks terrible.”

“He looks even more mopey than when we first met him,” Gustav added.

In truth, Liam was in worse shape than any of them even realized. In the four days since he’d spoken to Cremins and Knoblock, he hadn’t eaten so much as a crumb and had no sleep whatsoever. He was in such a stupor that a pair of attendants had to literally drag him down the aisle and prop him up at the altar.

Ella refused to dwell on Liam’s sad state. “Gustav, do you think you could rip that pulpit out of the ground?” she asked.

“Without breaking a sweat,” Gustav said.

“Then that’s how we free him,” Ella said.

“What about all those frowning men with long, pointy things?” Duncan asked. Soldiers armed with tall poleaxes were positioned throughout the garden, with several standing guard around Liam on the altar.

“There are too many. We can’t take on all of them,” Ella said.

“Aw, now I’m starting to like you less,” Gustav muttered.

“We need a distraction,” Ella said.

“My specialty!” Duncan beamed. He hiked up his pantaloons and crawled off toward the rear of the crowd.

“Wait!” Frederic said. “What if you get caught?”

“You guys are about to rescue Liam,” he said as if it were the most obvious thing on Earth. “Once he’s free, he’ll just rescue me.” He scuttled off on his hands and knees.

Just then a collective gasp rose from the crowd of wedding guests. A giant hot-air balloon had floated into view and was hovering over the altar. From the basket of that craft emerged the Archcleric of Avondell, the kingdom’s highest-ranking clergyman. The red-robed, white-haired cleric stepped to the edge of the craft’s basket, blew kisses down to the audience, and—to the sound of even louder gasps—stepped out into thin air. Or so it seemed. The holy man was wearing a harness, and two burly circus workers in the balloon were lowering him down by rope. The Archcleric descended to his spot behind the pulpit with his arms spread to the sides, like an eagle soaring down to roost on a tree branch. After landing, he adjusted his pointy, gold-flecked hat while another servant dashed up to disconnect his harness. Nearly everyone burst into applause, including Frederic.

“I know Briar Rose is the enemy here,” he said, nodding appreciatively. “But she knows how to put on a show.”

The Archcleric took a bow and gestured toward the far end of the aisle, where the bride was about to make her entrance. The guests turned to watch.

As the sound of thundering drums filled the courtyard, Briar Rose rode out of the palace on a unicorn. She wore a sparkling, diamond-studded bridal gown with a train so long that she was halfway down the aisle before the end of it finally emerged from the palace. An elaborate headdress—which included several live, tweeting tropical birds—was entwined around her swaying pillar of hair. Her fingers were covered with so many jeweled rings that it was impossible to bend a knuckle. The unicorn also wore a gown.

As Briar slowly made her way toward the altar, waving and blowing kisses to the audience, she allowed herself a moment to glare triumphantly at Liam. “I told you so,” she mouthed silently at him, and she smiled as she saw him slump halfway to the floor. But when Briar was about two-thirds of the way down the aisle, Duncan burst out from under the chair of a monocle-wearing baron, pointing and shouting, “Jenny von Hornhorse!”

The unicorn stopped and reared, its dress billowing. The orchestra froze mid-note. Everyone stared, dumbfounded, at the strangely dressed little man who now stood in the center of the aisle like a roadblock.

“Isn’t Jenny von Hornhorse the perfect name for her?” Duncan said, smiling.

“What are you doing, you idiot?” Briar hissed between her teeth. “Get back to your seat or I’ll have you thrown in the dungeon with a sack full of rats.”

Duncan didn’t move. Briar tried to steer her mount around him, but each time she got the animal to take a step left or right, Duncan countered by leaping in front of it again. “It’s like we’re dancing,” he said.

Several guards started to rush toward her, but Briar raised her hands to stop them. “Stay back!” she commanded. “No violence near the dress!”

She leaned down to snarl at Duncan. “Get. Out. Of. My. Way.”

“I love unicorns!” Duncan cried, throwing his arms around the creature’s neck.

While everyone’s eyes were glued to the spectacle in the center aisle, Ella, Frederic, and Gustav crept to the back of the altar platform.

“Psst!” Frederic whispered.

Liam looked down and wondered if he was hallucinating. Ella held a finger to her lips. The guards at Liam’s sides were still staring at Duncan—who was now running his fingers through the unicorn’s mane and singing to it—but they and the Archcleric were blocking Gustav’s path to the pulpit. The big prince had no idea how to get to it without causing a commotion.

Fig. 8 BRIAR, regal

Briar couldn’t wait another second for Duncan to clear her path. “Forget this,” she muttered, and slid down off the unicorn. Engrossed in serenading the animal, Duncan did nothing to stop her. The orchestra kicked back into music mode, tooting and drumming as Briar marched to the altar.

Lila, who had an aisle seat, casually stuck her leg out and tripped the bride, who fell into a forward roll and got tangled in her gown’s ludicrously long train. The birds in her hair squawked and flapped their wings frantically. Again, guards began to run to Briar’s aid. But she poked her head out from under layers of twisted, sparkling fabric and barked at them, “No one touches the dress!”

“Are you all right, Your Highness?” the Archcleric asked from up on the altar.

“Never better,” Briar snarled as she picked herself up. “Just start the stupid ceremony.”

“It’s now or never,” Ella whispered to the princes. “I’ll take the guard on the left; Frederic, you take the one on the right. Gustav, you get Liam.” She stood up and clubbed one of the guards over the head with the hilt of her sword. The man collapsed.

Frederic attempted to do the same to the other guard. Only the man didn’t fall. He didn’t even react. So Frederic hit him harder. This time the guard flinched a bit. And turned around angrily.

“Sorry,” Frederic said. “My, uh, hand slipped.”

The guard reached for Frederic but was stopped in mid-motion by Ella’s fist slamming into his jaw. Frederic let out a long breath as the guard staggered dizzily off the edge of the platform.

“This is why I’ve been telling you to exercise, Frederic,” Ella chided.

“I do ten neck rolls every morning!” Frederic sputtered.

As shrieks rose from the crowd, Gustav leapt up onto the altar and hoisted the Archcleric over his head. He glanced left and right, not sure of what to do with the holy man.

“Unhand me,” the Archcleric cried.

“Sorry, Church Guy, nothing personal,” Gustav said, before hurling the old man into the front row. The Archcleric landed across the laps of Liam’s parents, who toppled backward in their chairs.

“What is going on?” Briar howled.

As dozens of armed guards charged toward the dais, Gustav grabbed hold of the wooden pulpit and, with a grunt, ripped it from its foundation.

“Yes!” Ella cheered. A guard swung his poleax at her, but she was faster—a quick slice of her sword and the guard’s weapon was in two pieces. She followed up by knocking the man from the dais with a powerful leg sweep—which wasn’t easy to pull off, considering Frederic was crouched behind her, clinging to her waist.

In a daze of exhaustion, hunger, and melancholy, Liam blankly watched the chaos around him. “Is this real life?” he muttered to no one in particular.

Briar, assuming Liam had somehow arranged all this chaos, climbed up onto the platform and confronted him. “This is a rescue attempt?” she scoffed. “What a joke. You’re not going anywhere!”

A contingent of five soldiers reached the end of the aisle, their spears aimed at Gustav.

“Look out!” Frederic cried.

Gustav chucked the pulpit at the guards, bowling them over. Liam was still chained to the pulpit, however, and was whipped off his feet as it flew. He landed on the pile of very unhappy soldiers.

“Oh, starf it all,” Gustav groaned, and smacked himself on the forehead.

Lila sank in her seat, shaking her head.

Duncan, finally noticing the predicament his friends were in, scrambled up onto the unicorn’s back (taking note of how much easier it was to mount an animal that was wearing a dress) and charged up the aisle, shouting, “Tally-ho! Hero coming!”

The soldiers scrambled out of the animal’s way, but Liam was unable to get very far. He was stuck at the end of the aisle, directly in the path of the charging unicorn.

“Whoa!” Duncan yelled. The unicorn skidded to a halt, narrowly avoiding Liam, but the force of the stop catapulted Duncan up in the air. He slammed into Ella just as she was about to finish off the guard she’d been dueling.

Out in the crowd, the monocle-wearing baron turned to his wife and whispered, “This is a very good wedding.”

Seconds later, swarms of guards were on top of the wedding crashers. Duncan, Ella, Frederic, and Gustav were tackled and shackled.

“Well, this has been an interesting turn of events,” Briar said. She stood, smiling down at Liam, who looked in every way like he’d just been chewed up and spat out by a dragon. “You know, I still hadn’t been completely sure how I’d get you to say ‘I do.’ But now I don’t think it will be a problem at all.”

After the bedraggled Archcleric had been retrieved from the audience, the tattered bride and groom took their places once again on either side of the uprooted, overturned pulpit.

The old holy man cleared his throat, adjusted his hat, and began: “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to witness the joining in holy matrimony of Prince Liam of Erinthia and the fair, gentle, wise, generous, sweet-hearted, caring, artistically talented, pleasant-voiced, graceful, punctual, acrobatic—”

“Seriously?” Liam interrupted.

“—and lovely Princess Briar Rose of Avondell. This marriage shall forever unite their two kingdoms. What belongs to Avondell shall now belong to Erinthia; what belongs to Erinthia shall now belong to Avondell.”

Liam’s parents were dancing in their seats.

The Archcleric continued: “Do you, Briar Rose, take Prince Liam to be your husband?”

“I do,” Briar said with a wide, wicked grin.

“And do you, Liam, take Briar Rose to be your wife?”

Liam looked past the cleric to Ella, Frederic, Duncan, and Gustav. They were on their knees in chains, with guards holding sharpened axes over their heads. His eyes lingered on Ella’s the longest.

“I’m a madwoman, right?” Briar whispered. “What do you think I might do to your friends if you say no? Let your imagination run wild.”

Liam eyed her with contempt. He took a deep breath.

“I do,” he said.

“I now pronounce you husband and wife,” the Archcleric said cheerfully.

Ella felt as if her heart had fallen out of her chest.