A few moments later, a contingent of armed guards showed up. They removed the princes from their cell, chained them all together at the waist, and led them to meet the Bandit King. As the princes shuffled along like a big eight-legged caterpillar, scuffing up an intricate hand-woven carpet that was probably worth a fortune in itself, they passed tons of stolen loot: grand hanging tapestries, gilt-framed oil paintings, and lifelike marble busts.
On a normal day, Frederic would have been enraptured by the presence of such masterpieces. But today he barely noticed them. The last on the chain, Frederic leaned past Gustav to whisper to Liam, “You’re going to save us, right, Liam?”
“Hel-lo. Am I invisible?” Gustav said.
Duncan, from the front of the line, answered for Liam: “Oh, Liam will save us, all right. And it will be awesome.”
“It will not be awesome, Duncan,” Frederic snapped, finding Duncan’s positivity too much to take at that moment. “Look around. Nothing about this is awesome.”
“Ha! No need to get upset,” Duncan said. “We’re all friends here. I mean, we were having a grand old time yesterday. Remember when that owl scared you off your horse? Good times. I don’t mean to be critical, but you’ve become a bit of a sourpuss ever since we got captured by these evil bandits.”
“Do you even listen to the words that come out of your own mouth?” Gustav snarked at Duncan. “Why did you come with us, anyway?”
“I thought it would be fun,” Duncan said, and immediately regretted that answer. “Anyway, I think I can help. I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeves.”
“Well, you’ve got no muscles, so there is plenty of room up there,” said Gustav.
“Gustav, you’re not helping,” Frederic admonished.
“Don’t act like you’re my father, Cinderella Man,” Gustav sniped.
Liam shushed the others. “Look, all of you, we’re in far too serious a situation for all this petty bickering,” he said sternly. “Follow my lead and I will get us out of this.”
A thick wooden door was thrown open at the end of the hallway, allowing the princes and their guards to enter a gigantic room littered wall-to-wall with gold coins, glistening jewels, and other assorted treasures. It was perhaps the biggest stash of loot in the history of thievery. The princes’ eyes all widened a bit—not just at the sight of all these mountains of riches, but also at the hundred or so armed thugs who stood, scowling, among them.
At the center of it all was a fur-lined golden throne, upon which sat Deeb Rauber, the Bandit King. He slouched back in his very expensive seat, one booted foot hooked over the arm of the throne. Aside from the oversize crown that sat, lopsided, on top of his head, the Bandit King was dressed plainly in a well-worn gray shirt, black vest, and dark blue pants. His dirty black hair jutted out messily from under the crown. His right eye squinted at the princes (the left was covered by a red leather eye patch). But the most striking thing about the Bandit King, by far, was his age. Deeb Rauber was ten years old.
“You’re a child!” Gustav blurted.
“Well, that’s a surprise,” Duncan said. “I mean, I heard a story about the Bandit King’s exploits as a young boy, but I thought it was, you know, much older. The story, I mean. Well, and you, too.”
“You’re a child!” Gustav repeated.
“Unbelievable,” Liam muttered.
The Bandit King’s squinty eye got squintier. “It seems our guests don’t understand the difference between being young and being a child,” he said coolly. “One’s age is but a number. No matter how many years you’ve lived, it is your deeds that earn you respect. So there!” The boy then stuck out his tongue and blew a sloppy raspberry at his captives, much to the delight of his men.
“My friends are just very impressed!” Frederic shouted, taking a stab at diplomacy before his companions said anything they would regret. “We’ve heard about your many accomplishments, and we assumed you must have been further along in years. Your youth is a testament to your skill.”
Fig. 24 The BANDIT KING
“Spoken like a true prince,” the Bandit King said. “Yes, I know who you are. All of you.” He turned to Neville and Horace, who were standing next to his throne. “You two were right. Four princes. You’ll be very happy with your reward.”
“I think you’ve mistaken us for another group of men, sir,” said Liam. “We are just travelers who happened to—”
“You,” the Bandit King cut in, “are Prince Liam of Erinthia. I know this, because I’ve robbed you. I’ve robbed all of you. Liam, your father’s cherished sword, the jewel-encrusted one that had been passed down through twenty generations of the Erinthian royal family, the one that went missing last year—I stole it.”
Liam looked like he’d been punched.
“Prince Duncan of Sylvaria,” the Bandit King went on. “Remember how the hallway outside your royal library used to be lined with priceless paintings by the greatest artists of the land? They’re all hanging in my outhouse now.”
“That must be a big outhouse,” Duncan said.
Fig. 25 SPOONS
“It is,” Deeb Rauber went on. “And Prince Frederic, my silver-tongued friend from Harmonia, I bet you miss your collection of spoons from around the world.”
“You beast,” Frederic whispered.
“And Gustav,” Rauber continued. “Gustav, Gustav, Gustav. Have you not even noticed I’m sitting on your mother’s throne?”
Gustav clenched his fists and lurched toward the Bandit King, but was held back by guards—not to mention the chains that bound him to the other princes.
“Fine,” said Liam. “So you know who we are. What do you want from us?”
The Bandit King threw his arms up and rolled his eyes. “Jeez, how slow are you people? Money! I want ransoms from your very, very, very rich families. I’m sure they will all pay dearly to make sure their precious sons are returned to them safely. Or would you have me believe your parents don’t want you back?”
“What about your parents?” Frederic asked. “How do you think your parents feel about the life you’ve chosen for yourself? What would your parents say to you today?”
“I know what they’d say,” the Bandit King tittered. “They’d say, ‘Help! Let us out! We’ve been locked in this cupboard for years!’” All the goons around him burst into laughter.
Frederic pursed his lips and nodded, not saying another word.
“Seriously, though,” Rauber said, wiping a tear from his eye. “What did you fools think I was going to do with you? I’m the Bandit King. I’ve got a reputation to keep up. And getting four princes from four different kingdoms all in one cozy little cell is quite a coup, wouldn’t you say? I can’t wait to hear the next bard song about me.”
“Lousy bards…” Liam muttered, mostly to himself. He looked up at Rauber. “How is it that all four of us here know who you are? Why does everyone know your name and no one knows ours? Why do the bards give you so much attention?”
“I’m bad, Liam,” Rauber said as if it were the most obvious answer in the world. “Fear and loathing: That’s what sells. If you want real respect, switch sides.”
“You disgust me, Rauber,” Liam spat.
“Call me Your Highness,” the Bandit King demanded. “I am royalty within these walls. In fact, based on what I hear, I’ve got more loyal subjects than you do right now. The people of Erinthia aren’t very happy with you, are they?”
“How do you know all these things?” Liam asked, dumbfounded.
“I’ve got spies everywhere, Liam,” Rauber said. “I’m very well informed.”
Liam got an idea. He cleared his throat. “Well then, Your Highness, why don’t you prove yourself worthy of all those followers? Face me in a duel. Just you and me. If I win, the four of us go free; if you win, we tell our kingdoms to hand over whatever riches you demand.”
“Are you kidding?” Rauber asked. He made a fart noise with his mouth and pretended to wave away a bad odor. “Why in the world w
ould I want to do that? You’re twice my size; you’d beat me in no time. I’m evil, not stupid. Guards, take them back to their cells. Oh, and chop off their feet so they don’t try to run away.”
Liam was once again at a loss for words.
“Wait, what about me?” Duncan interjected. “I’m several inches shorter than Liam, the only exercise I get is running from bees, and I’ve never used a sword before in my life. What if you duel me instead?”
“Have you lost your mind?” Liam and Frederic both hissed.
“Don’t worry,” Duncan whispered. “Things like this tend to work out in my favor.”
“You know what?” the Bandit King said. “Why not? That sounds like it might be fun. Let’s do it.” Roaring cheers rose from his followers.
“Brilliant,” said Duncan. “And you’ll free us all if I win?”
“No, of course not,” Rauber replied. “You four are my prisoners, and that’s not going to change until I get ridiculous amounts of money from your families. But I’ll fight you anyway. Just for kicks. I won’t kill you, of course, because I can’t get a ransom if you’re dead. But I think the boys here would enjoy seeing you lose a body part or two.” The Bandit King started bouncing excitedly in his seat. “Ooh, and you know what else? Hey, Liam, I’m going to use your dad’s sword to chop up your friend.”
Duncan swallowed hard. He had an unfamiliar wobbly feeling in his stomach. Was that doubt? No, no, he told himself. My magical luck will come through for me. (Except he didn’t have any magical luck.) And besides, the risk is worth it. This will be a fantastic way to impress my new friends.
“That’s a rather fetching eye patch, by the way,” he said to the king.
“Thanks,” said Rauber, removing the patch and winking at Duncan with the left eye it had been covering. “Both of my eyes are actually fine; I was just wearing the patch to look scary. Okay, guards, take them away and get Prince Duncan prepped for the duel.”
“On the roof, as usual?” Horace asked his boss.
“That’s right,” Rauber answered. “Hey, I’ve got an idea. Neville, why don’t we ask the old lady if we can borrow one of those music men. I’d like to have this moment immortalized in song.”
“Um, that was a joke, right, sir?” Neville asked with an anxious gulp. “You don’t really want me to, you know, talk to ’er. Not like face-to-face or anythin’. Do ya?”
Rauber was silent for a second, during which Neville’s forehead beaded with sweat.
“Nah, her place is too far from here,” Rauber finally said. “I don’t want to wait that long. Hey, Duncan. You had a flute with you when you got brought in here; you must have a bit of musical talent. Compose a song about your own dismemberment. But make it simple—something my doofus henchmen can remember.”
Duncan was intrigued. “Ooh, I’ve never written a song before.” He beamed. He started humming as he and the other princes were dragged from the room in chains.
“That was odd,” Liam whispered to the others as they went. “Who’s the old lady Rauber was talking about?”
“His mother?” Gustav guessed. “Doesn’t matter. We need to figure out how to get out of here.”
“No, his mother was locked in—,” Liam started to say.
“His mother is really of no concern,” Frederic interjected. “We’re going to be hobbled. Do you know what that means? No feet. I’m a dancer, people. A dancer.”
They’re right, Liam thought. We don’t have time to parse out every word the Bandit King utters. There are more pressing issues at the moment. Like Duncan’s impending demise.
11
PRINCE CHARMING TAKES A DIVE
The rooftop level of the Bandit King’s castle had been constructed as a convenient spot from which the robbers could spill boiling oil down onto anyone who tried to break into their headquarters, but it also served as a nice place to have duels and, occasionally, to sunbathe. It was up there, with his loyal followers cheering from the sidelines, that Deeb Rauber prepared to slice and dice Prince Duncan.
Guards led the four princes, still chained to one another, from a lookout tower onto the stony rooftop. The army of bandits hissed and booed until the king raised his hand to hush them. He danced out into the center of the courtyard, waving around the most fabulous sword anybody there had ever seen. From handle to tip, the blade was encrusted with diamonds, emeralds, rubies, and sapphires. The weapon sparkled and shimmered like a sky full of fireworks. This was the legendary Sword of Erinthia. Liam gritted his teeth when he saw it and made a silent vow that he would get the sword back to his family someday. But my first priority is to make sure that fool Duncan doesn’t get himself killed, he thought. It’s just one thing after another, isn’t it? Being a hero can be so frustrating sometimes.
Duncan’s head was buzzing with adrenaline as he watched the Bandit King strut around, showing off for his followers. Duncan knew that the ten-year-old boy was soon going to stop playing around and start attacking him with that beautiful, deadly sword, and he wondered exactly how his magical luck was going to save him. One of the guards unlocked Duncan’s chains, separated him from the other princes, and pushed him out into the sunny, open center of the courtyard to face the Bandit King.
Fig. 26 The SWORD of ERINTHIA
“How’s the song coming along?” Rauber asked.
“I’m thinking it can start with something like this,” Duncan answered, and sang, “The Bandit King took Prince Duncan up to his roof. He planned to chop-chop him, and that is the troof!”
“That’s terrible,” Rauber said.
“Sorry. First-timer,” Duncan said. “Maybe it would be better if I work on it after the duel. That way, I’ll know how it ends.”
“Oh, we all know how it’s going to end,” Rauber said with a grin. He tossed the Sword of Erinthia back and forth from hand to hand. “Ready to get hurt?”
“Would it matter if I said no?” Duncan asked.
“Nuh-uh,” Rauber smirked, shaking his head. He giggled as he sliced zigzags in the air.
“Don’t I get a sword, too?” Duncan asked. “I mean, you did say this was going to be a duel, not just a butchering.”
“Oh, yes, of course,” the Bandit King said. “Never let it be said that the Bandit King is anything but fair. Horace, let the prince borrow your weapon.”
Horace stepped out of the crowd, lugging a huge two-handed sword. The blade was six feet long and weighed more than Duncan did.
Duncan let out a nervous laugh. “You know, a smaller one would be just fine.” His luck was taking its sweet time to show itself. He honestly thought it would have gotten him out of this situation already, and he hoped the magic hadn’t gone on vacation or something.
The next few seconds seemed to occur in slow motion. Horace tossed the enormous sword in Duncan’s direction. The mocking laughter of a hundred bandits echoed in Duncan’s ears as the blade flew toward him. He reached out and—surprising even himself—caught the hilt of the sword in his hands. However, Duncan was not a terribly strong man. To him, catching the sword was like being hit with a cannonball. Unable to stop the momentum of the heavy weapon, Duncan staggered backward uncontrollably—and tumbled off the edge of the roof.
That was when Liam sprang into action. He dove to save his falling companion and managed to grab hold of his ankles. But Duncan kept falling, taking Liam with him. Gustav and Frederic, still chained to Liam, yelped as they were whipped off their feet and went sailing over the castle wall with the others.
The bandits’ laughter came to an abrupt stop.
“My princes!” the Bandit King screamed. He turned on Horace and Neville. “You imbeciles cost me my royal ransoms! Forget your rewards—you’re about to be punished worse than I’ve ever punished anyone before!”
“But I didn’t do anything!” protested Neville. Horace unsuccessfully tried to hide his massive frame behind his skinny partner.
Meanwhile, many yards below, the four princes thrashed wildly as they dangled in the air
. The pointed tip of Horace’s sword had gotten stuck—wedged between two stones in the castle wall—and Duncan was clinging ferociously to its handle. Below him hung Liam (still gripping Duncan’s ankles), Gustav, and Frederic—all connected at the waist by their prison chains.
“I can’t hold on,” Duncan said through gritted teeth. “I wasn’t exaggerating about my lack of exercise.”
“Just let go,” Liam said.
“What?” Frederic yelled up to him. “Let go? Are you mad?”
“Frederic, look down,” Liam said.
Frederic glanced down. His toes were a mere six inches from the ground. “Oh.”
So Duncan released his grip, and the four men fell to the swampy, rain-soaked lawn below. They landed in a heap on top of one another. Duncan, aside from sore fingers, was completely unharmed. He climbed off the pile of princes, feeling pretty good about himself, and said, “Well, that was lucky.”
“I don’t want to hear the L word, Dr. Delusional,” Gustav warned. He then pulled Frederic out of the thick, gooey mud. “You okay?” he asked.
“I’ll survive,” Frederic replied. “Thanks for asking.”
“Hey, I just want to make sure you’re not going to slow me down,” Gustav said.
“Quick, let’s get out of here before one of them is smart enough to look over the edge and see that we’re not dead,” said Liam.
“Where did those fiends put our horses?” Gustav grumbled, looking around.
“There’s no time. We’ve got to make a run for it,” said Liam. “It’s not like we could ride in these chains, anyway.” The four men started off down the hill, away from the Bandit King’s castle, as fast as their feet would carry them.
“So … where are we … heading next?” Duncan panted.
Gustav, who was chained between Liam and Frederic, caused the others to stumble as he sprinted forward to the head of the pack. “Follow me,” he yelled.