“I don’t know,” Lila hedged. “I mean, I may be a princess, but I’m not so great when it comes to dealing with other royals. I think we should still just go back and tell my mom and dad.”
“Tut-tut,” Pennyfeather said. “I shall do all the talking. No worries there.”
“Well, maybe,” Lila said.
“Then it’s settled,” Pennyfeather said as he straightened the feather on his floppy cap. “And once we’ve done our civic duty by informing the authorities about the witch, then we can see to it that Sturmhagen’s courtiers get you properly fixed up, Your Highness. We’ll get you a new gown—with unwrinkled sleeves. And new footwear. Have you tried those new glass slippers that are becoming so popular among the aristocracy these days? I hear they’re simply darling. I’m sure we could even get your hair recurled if we ask the right people. Worry not, Your Highness: With my input, you’ll be looking like a proper princess again in no time. Now let us be off. Your Highness? Your Highness? Where did you go? Your Highness?”
Elsewhere in the same forest, the four princes pushed their way through the underbrush until they came to a dirt road several miles from Zaubera’s stronghold. They stopped to catch their breath and gripe about one another.
“Gustav, let me take a look at you,” Liam said.
“Go ahead,” Gustav said. “You’ve got working eyes.”
“I think you’ll be okay,” Liam said, ignoring Gustav’s jibe and checking him out anyway. “Between the sparks and the fire, it was probably just too much bright light at one time. A similar thing happened to me once when I was fighting a Zenocian strobe spirit. Your vision should return to normal.”
“How do I look?” Gustav asked.
“Bald,” said Duncan. “But on the bright side, you don’t look as bad as Frederic.”
“Starf it all,” Gustav cursed, fingering his scorched, virtually hairless scalp. “You pathetic losers cost me my manly mojo.”
“Well, wait,” said Duncan. “I tried to help—”
“Too late!” Gustav burst. “That little comedy act you call ‘helping’ was too late. And a lot of good it did anyway.”
“You shouldn’t cast blame, Gustav,” Liam said sternly. “You set that whole mess into motion by ignoring my plan.”
“You said, ‘Distract the giant,’ so I did!” Gustav retorted.
“There was more to the plan than that!” Liam barked back.
“You cooked my head! Was that part of your plan?”
“I didn’t know you’d be standing right in my way,” Liam snapped defensively. “I did what I could. It’s not like anybody else was going to get the job done.” He glared at Duncan and Frederic.
“Are you referring to us?” Duncan asked. He was genuinely unsure.
“I don’t know why you’re looking at me,” Frederic said. “You knew I was no hero. I had no business even being there.”
“You’re right,” Liam snarled. “My biggest tactical error was not doing this alone. Why in the world did I ever think I could do this with a coward, a clown, and a guy whose only claim to fame is being beaten by the very witch we needed to stop?”
With that, Gustav leapt at Liam, tackling him and knocking him to the ground. The two princes rolled in the dirt, each fighting to get on top of the other.
“Looks to me like you can see fine,” Liam said as they wrestled.
“It’s still blurry,” Gustav yelled. He smashed Liam into a tree trunk.
“I’m glad it’s improving,” Liam grunted as he planted his feet into Gustav’s chest and kicked him backward.
“You’re lucky I can’t see perfectly yet,” Gustav snarled. “Or I would have crushed you by now.” He reached out and tried to yank Liam down by the cape, but most of Liam’s cape was gone. Gustav’s hand closed on empty air.
“O-ho! What happened to your beloved cape, Fancy Man?” Gustav laughed.
“The dragon burned it up. Just like your hair.”
“Heh-heh. You lost your cape. That’s good enough for me.” Gustav walked away chuckling and took a seat on a tree stump. Liam leaned back against a nearby pine, panting and shooting dirty looks at Gustav. A long, uncomfortable silence followed.
“Well, from where I stand it’s been a pretty good day,” Duncan finally said, drawing some odd looks from the others. “I got to see my very first giant, my very first dragon, and my very first witch, all in one shot!”
“What about the witch who poisoned Snow White?” Frederic asked.
Duncan shook his head. “Never met her.”
Liam took a deep breath. “Okay, everyone, let’s follow this road and see if there’s a town nearby,” he said. “Maybe we can stop for food and a little first aid.”
“And a change of clothes, maybe?” Frederic added. “A change of clothes would be so nice.”
“Which direction did we run from the witch’s place?” Gustav asked.
“East, I believe.”
“Then there should be a town about five miles down this road to the north,” Gustav said. “Flargstagg, it’s called. I’ve always meant to go there.”
“Why?” Frederic asked.
“Because my brothers always told me to stay away from Flargstagg,” Gustav replied.
“Flargstagg,” Duncan said. “Sounds exciting! Let’s go.” And he started heading south.
Gustav leaned over to Frederic. “I still can’t see great,” he said. “Please tell me he’s not skipping.”
Lila strode purposefully down a muddy road, on her way back to Erinthia. She stuck to the path and kept a constant watch for any movement among the trees. While she felt pretty sure she’d know what to do if she ran into any dangerous wildlife—she’d read Native Beasts of Sturmhagen five times—she still flinched every time she noticed a scurrying rat or heard the sharp caw of a passing crow. Occasionally she came across a fork in the road, and while she was reasonably certain which path she’d come along, she found it hard to shake the fear that she was becoming lost. She began to question the wisdom of ditching Pennyfeather.
A long-drawn-out howl echoed among the trees.
Wolf, Lila thought. What did the book say about wolves? Oh, yes. You’re supposed to bathe yourself in tomato juice to disguise your scent and keep the wolves off your trail. Crud. That’s not helpful.
Then she remembered another piece of advice from Native Beasts of Sturmhagen: “When all else fails, run.”
And that is what she did. She ran as fast as her legs would carry her, looking down to make sure she didn’t lose her footing or trip over a stray rock or tree root. She never even saw Ruffian the Blue until she ran smack into his horse.
“Crud,” Lila muttered as the bounty hunter pulled her up onto his horse and quickly looped a rope around her.
“Finally,” the bounty hunter sighed. “Do you know how much time I wasted looking for you? So inconsiderate.” His eyes grew misty.
“Are you about to cry?” Lila asked.
“It’s hard being the best at something,” Ruffian sniffled. “People expect so much from you. It’s a lot of pressure. I’m just glad I finally have you and I can get back to my job now.”
“You could have just kept going after my brother,” Lila said. “You didn’t have to come back for me.”
“Yes, I did,” Ruffian said. “You were going to get in the way. You’re a way-getter-inner, I can tell.”
The bounty hunter rode off with a tied-up Lila lying across the back of his horse. “Besides, you never know what kind of nasty things might step out from behind those trees,” he said.
An hour later…
“So what are you doing now?” Lila asked.
Ruffian was crouched on the ground, examining a set of footprints. “Why do you keep asking me questions?” he moaned without looking up.
“I just want to know what you’re doing,” Lila said. “It seems interesting.”
Ruffian sighed. “Four people went this way. Three of them were chained together.”
“How ca
n you tell?”
“The angle. Plus, some of the prints are deeper at the toes than the heels. Guys toward the back of the chain were being dragged by the one ahead of them. There are knee- and handprints, too. One of them fell down a lot.”
“Can I see?”
“No. I tied you up for a reason.” Ruffian climbed back onto the horse and sat in front of Lila. He gave the animal a kick and started trotting off the road into the forest.
“So, why are we following these prints?” Lila asked.
“We are not following anything,” Ruffian said. “I am. And I’m following them because your brother is part of the group that made them.”
“You can tell that from the footprints?” Lila asked, very impressed.
Ruffian shook his head. “There’s a bandit hideout not far from here. Your brother was there, but he escaped. With three other men.”
“Fascinating,” Lila said. “So where do you think he’s headed now?”
“These tracks are cutting a very straight line from the bandit castle. These guys are heading very specifically to the Orphaned Wastes. Mount Batwing. Now stop asking questions. My throat is starting to hurt from all this talking.”
Lila lifted her head, shocked by the realization that suddenly dawned on her.
“Ruffian,” she said with urgency in her voice. “You need to turn your horse around.”
“Why are you addressing me by my first name?” the bounty hunter groaned. “Don’t you kids have any—”
“Ruffian, listen to me, you’re never going to be able to bring my brother back to Briar Rose, because very soon, my brother’s going to be dead. He’s on his way to fight a witch who will very likely kill him.”
Ruffian remained silent, his expression downcast.
“It’s the only thing that makes sense,” Lila said. “Why else would he be going to Mount Batwing? He must have heard about the kidnapped bards, and he’s going to try to save them. That’s exactly what Liam would do. But if the witch is as dangerous as Ella says, Liam has no idea what he’s about to go up against.”
“Am I supposed to know what you’re talking about?” Ruffian grumbled. Lila filled the bounty hunter in on everything she’d learned from Ella.
“You’ve got to turn around right now and go back to Avondell, Ruffian. You know it,” Lila said. “Briar Rose wants to marry Liam. She’s not going to be happy if he’s dead. This is your only way to avoid her wrath and possibly still earn your pay.” Lila hated the idea of alerting Briar Rose to her brother’s whereabouts, but seeing him in her clutches would be far preferable to seeing him toasted into a piece of charcoal.
“I just can’t get a break,” Ruffian said with a long, slow exhale. Lila saw a tear run along the deep creases of the bounty hunter’s weatherworn face.
He turned his horse around. “You’re lucky I know a shortcut.”
The exhausted quartet of princes staggered onto the cobblestone main street of Flargstagg. Cozy thatched-roof cottages lined the narrow avenues of the town, with colorful flower gardens in front. Children chased one another in giggly games of tag; cuddling couples sat on carved wooden benches, enjoying the clear blue sky.
“This place is adorable!” Duncan gasped.
“Yes,” said Frederic. “I think I can handle this.”
Gustav started laughing.
“What’s so funny?” Frederic asked.
“I can see better now,” Gustav said. “And you all look terrible.”
As they passed one of the quaint little houses, a villager emerged—a crookbacked old man, carrying a bucket of food scraps. Several cats darted out from under bushes and meowed at his feet.
“Patience, patience, my little whiskered ones,” the old man chuckled. “I’ve got some tidbits for you.” He stopped when he caught sight of the princes. “My goodness, what happened to you young men?”
Liam stepped to the front of the group. “Hello, kind sir,” he said. “We’ve traveled a very long and difficult way, and we could use a place to clean up and get some rest. Would you be able to lend a hand?”
“Of course, of course,” the man said. “Please, use my house as you wish. I’ll ask my wife to make some hot tea for you all.”
“Thank you,” Liam said.
“Oh, it’s no trouble at all,” the man said. “The people of Flargstagg take pride in offering kindness to any stranger who happens upon our town, be he beggar or be he prince.”
“Lucky for us, huh?” Duncan said cheerily. “Since we happen to be princes.”
A sudden panic overcame Liam. The last thing he wanted was for these villagers to know who the four princes really were. Luckily, the old man laughed, assuming Duncan’s comment to be a joke (the princes looked like they’d just crawled out of a sewer). But Duncan kept right on going.
“No, really, we’re princes. And famous ones, too,” Duncan insisted. He put his hand on Liam’s shoulder. “This man right here is Prince Liam of Erinthia. But you might know him better as Prince Charming. “
“Charming, eh?” the old man said, and curled his lip in disgust. “You’re the Prince Charming from Erinthia? I heard about your wicked deeds just the other day. You’re the scoundrel who dumped poor Sleeping Beauty.”
“Dumped? What? No, Charming is the hero of that story. The hero!” Liam said, shocked and confused. “He has nothing to do with that guy from Erinthia.”
“Nice try, prince, but someone as awful as you can’t hide behind an assumed name,” the wrinkled old man scoffed. “We all know who you really are.”
“Who do you mean by all?” Liam asked. His gut felt like it was turning inside out.
“Everyone,” the old villager said. “The minstrels might have no new songs, but they haven’t been quiet, either. They’ve given us the news about you—news that comes straight from that lovely Sleeping Beauty herself, Briar Rose of Avondell. Honestly, I don’t know how you live with yourself after you pelted such a sweet girl with pumpkin innards. And then you painted a mustache on her mother?” (Since Briar’s rant about Liam didn’t rhyme and wasn’t set to music, people had a hard time remembering exactly how it went. Almost every minstrel around was telling a slightly different version of it. And when their listeners decided to retell the tale to friends and neighbors, details tended to change even more. Always for the worse.)
“You did that?” Duncan asked, aghast.
“No, of course not!” Liam protested. “Mustache on her mother? What are you even talking about? Look, sir, everything you’ve heard about me is a lie. I dumped that girl because she was awful.”
“I’ll show you a good dumping,” the old man scowled, and proceeded to overturn his bucket of garbage directly onto Liam’s head. The other princes gasped.
“Now get out of my sight,” the man snarled. “And take your ugly henchmen with you.”
Gustav stepped forward. “Henchman?” he scowled. “I am your prince, foolish man. I am Gustav of Sturmhagen. And you will treat me with the respect I deserve from my subjects.”
“Oh, really? And what respect do you deserve?” the old man snickered. He cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted out to his neighbors, “Hey, everybody! Look who we have here! It’s our little Prince Gustav, who doesn’t even know how to rescue a maiden! And guess who he’s with? That brute from Erinthia who dunked Sleeping Beauty in a barrel of pickles!”
“Barrel of pickles? Are you insane?” Liam cried. A crowd started to gather around the princes.
“Hey, he’s right! It is that useless Gustav! Why can’t he be more like his sixteen brothers?”
“I’d like to give that Prince Charming a good smack for what he did to Sleeping Beauty!”
“Ha-ha! Look how tiny that other guy’s cape is!”
“Hey, everybody! They’re friends with a mud-man!”
Liam looked to the other princes. “Let’s go, shall we?”
The four of them fought their way through the mob of people and ran as fast as they could, farther into town.
/> “Well, I always wanted people to connect the real me to the Prince Charming in the story,” Liam huffed as they ran.
The princes zigzagged around corners, scrambled behind houses, and darted down narrow alleyways, until they were sure they’d lost the mob.
“Wasn’t it daytime just a minute ago?” Frederic asked.
The princes surveyed their surroundings. They stood in a part of town that bore no resemblance whatsoever to the quaint and colorful Flargstagg they’d just seen. The buildings on this side of the village were dark, with boarded-up windows. The cobblestone streets ran thick with slimy green sewage. Rats skittered along the gutters. Even the sunlight had vanished.
“I can’t even manage to get us a little rest without something going wrong,” Liam muttered.
“Look up ahead.” Duncan pointed toward a rather sketchy-looking tavern at the dead end of a dead-end street. The princes approached.
“Hmm, the Stumpy Boarhound,” read Duncan. “Not a great name for an eating establishment. What is a boarhound, anyway? Some kind of pig? Some kind of dog?”
“Either way, it sounds ugly,” Frederic said, peering in through a smudgy window. “I don’t like the looks of the customers. They seem a bit rough around the edges.”
“Where else are we going to go?” Liam asked. He opened the door and entered the Stumpy Boarhound. Which you knew he would do. Because you read the prologue.
Fig. 36 The STUMPY BOARHOUND
20
PRINCE CHARMING WALKS INTO A BAR
At a small table in the back corner of the sticky-floored, body-odor-scented dining room of the Stumpy Boarhound, the four princes quietly picked at the rattlesnake kebabs that they’d purchased with a few coins Duncan found stuck to the bottom of his boot.
“I’ve never eaten snake before … and apparently, I haven’t been missing much,” Frederic said, squinching up his face in disgust.
“Well, it was either this or something called ‘critter-bit casserole,’” Liam said. “At least with this, we know what kind of animal we’re eating.”