How To Avoid Death On A Daily Basis: Book Two (6 page)

The vision in the distance gave us all a boost. We set off again with renewed purpose, eyes fixed on our goal, although I couldn’t help but occasionally glance backwards to see if there was anyone on our tail.

Whatever Sonny was up to, we didn’t seem to be his main priority as there was no sign of him.

The trees remained as belts on either side of the road, but the forest had faded away and now we were flanked by farmlands. Farmhouses appeared at regular intervals and we even saw people working in the fields.

By the end of the day, the city’s outline had become clear and distinct. A high wall with turrets, behind which rose an assortment of tall buildings, dwarfed by a series of spires. Rather than rest for the night, we excitedly pushed on.

By sunrise the next morning, we were exhausted but within a stone’s throw of the city walls. The most noticeable feature from this distance, however, wasn’t the architecture, it was the huge line of people. As we got closer, I realised they weren’t just waiting for the gates to open—the gates were already open. It wasn’t like a line at the supermarket checkout, it was like a line outside a phone store waiting for the new iPhone to be released.

The people looked like they’d been waiting there for days, maybe longer. Many had little camps set up and were making breakfast around small fires.

“Should we get in line?” said Maurice, anxiously pushing his glasses up his nose. It was a massive queue that went all the way along the wall and disappeared around the corner.

“Let’s check the front first,” I said.

There are some people who can go to the head of a line with a swagger, loving the feeling of being more important than the plebs. And then there are others, like us, who feel horribly embarrassed to be cutting ahead of people who have been waiting for much longer.

We made our way to the gates, heads down, avoiding eye-contact with any of the people to our right, although I could hear them grumbling as we passed.

The entrance was a large archway with a raised portcullis. Four soldiers, their chests covered by leather scale and wearing rounded metal helmets, high boots and baggy shorts, guarded the entrance with long pikes. The soldiers looked pretty relaxed, using the pikes to lean on rather than intimidate.

An officer of some kind—I assumed this from his fancier uniform and the fact he had a clipboard—was talking to the man who was first in line. After a brief conversation, the man and his family picked up their gear and followed the officer through the archway.

At the same time, a wagon, loaded with barrels and pulled by large dray horses, rolled past us. The driver waved at the guards and rode through the gates without fuss.

I took out the card Grayson had given us. On our journey here, we had all attempted to learn how to read, which had been surprisingly easy. Grayson had given us a kids’ alphabet book and we quickly worked out it wasn’t all that different from our own language. Their alphabet used different symbols, but they matched our own letters one-to-one. So, while we used ‘A’, they used a small spiral. For ‘B’ they used two curves on top of each other. But in every other way they followed the same rules we did; made the same sounds, formed the same words. This seemed very suspicious to me.

Anyone who’s seen
Planet of the Ape
s (the good version) knows the scene at the end where the Statue of Liberty rising out of the sand reveals to our hero that he is in fact on Earth. But this shouldn’t have been a surprise, since the apes he’d encountered all spoke English. Bit of a giveaway.

Since arriving in this world, I’d noticed that when people spoke to us, the words didn’t seem to match the movements of their lips. Some kind of magic that allowed us to understand them, I figured. But their alphabet being a simple coded version of our own seemed too simple to be anything other than a cheap way to make this world seem alien while keeping it easy to understand, like you would in a game.

Although I still hadn’t found any concrete proof this world was some kind of VR simulation, the circumstantial evidence was continuing to mount; in my mind at least. I definitely felt someone out there was pulling the strings, although it could just as well be a Sauron as a pizza-guzzling software engineer.

The card Grayson had given me said we were Visitors and were to be allowed full access to all cities under the Treaty of the Four. Considering how we had attacked Grayson, I had been worried it might contain instructions for our immediate imprisonment, but it was a very short statement we had been able to decipher easily, despite Grayson’s terrible handwriting. Although that may have had something to do with me stabbing him just before he wrote it.

I walked up to one of the soldiers holding a pike, and held up the card. “Can you tell me if we have to wait in line?”

He casually glanced at the card, and then his eyes widened. “Wait here.” He turned and ran through the archway.

A moment later, the officer with the clipboard came jogging out, followed by the same soldier.

“Ah, hello. Right this way. Follow me, please.” The officer, who was younger than I’d thought he’d be, spoke in a bright, cheerful voice.

There was a bit of a commotion along the line as people watched us receive special treatment, but it was more out of curiosity than animosity, I’d say. A bunch of hobos in rags suddenly getting whisked past the velvet rope would raise a few eyebrows in any world.

We were led through the archway where there were a number of low buildings. We weren’t actually in the city as there was another wall ahead of us, with another archway. Through that, I could make out numerous buildings.

The officer, who hadn’t introduced himself, showed us into one of the buildings. The room was full of benches and a number of people, including the family we had seen enter earlier.

“Please wait here while I inform the Commander of your presence,” said the officer. He nodded to the soldier who remained with us.

We sat down, all glad to have a chance to rest. We’d walked through the night to get here, and the adrenalin rush of finally reaching our goal had worn off. We were too knackered to do anything other than sit there.

“I hope you have something to offer the great city of Fengarad,” said a large man with a painted face. I don’t mean he had makeup on, I mean he had paint on his face. Black panda eyes, bright red cheeks, and a white strip from his nose down to his chin.

“I hope so, too.” I smiled politely and looked at the others. They were all very studiously looking elsewhere.

“I’m Cordibar the Tremendous, magician and sage. Perhaps you’ve heard of me?”

On hearing the word magician I suddenly perked up. For someone like me with poor fighting skills and a terrible physique, there was only one way to become OP—learn magic.

I shuffled along the bench. “You can do magic?”

“Of course. Birthdays, parties, functions of all sorts—Cordibar will keep your guests entertained!” He twirled his hands and produced a rather limp bouquet of flowers out of nowhere. Or possibly from his voluminous sleeves.

Disappointed, I again smiled politely, and slid back down the bench.

The officer returned and I looked up expectantly, but he rushed past me. He stopped in front of Cordibar the Tremendous. “We’ve checked the records and have a report from the City of Dargot about a children’s entertainer called Candimar the Terrific.”

“Never heard of him,” said Cordibar.

“If you think we’re going to expose our children to a pervert like you, you’re sadly mistaken. Guards!”

Four guards appeared. Cordibar leapt to his feet with surprising agility considering his large girth.

“This is a travesty. You have no proof. No proof!”

There was a puff of smoke and Cordibar disappeared. Everyone was left baffled, until Cordibar appeared from behind a bench, crawling towards the exit on all fours like no one could see him.

The guards grabbed him and man-handled him out of the door.

“This is an outrage! I’m not a pervert, I’m an entertainer!”

“I do apologise,” said the officer. “The Commander will see you now.”

We followed him down a corridor into a large office. Behind an impressive desk sat a stern-looking soldier with a walrus moustache, a bald head and a monocle. He rose as we entered and came over to shake out hands.

“Commander Ducane. Charmed. Delighted. Charmed. Please sit. It’s an honour. A great honour.”

He retook his seat and we sat down on the chairs provided. The officer handed the Commander the card from Grayson, and then the Commander did something very surprising. He unfolded it.

The card was quite thick, but there had been no indication it could be opened. The two sides separated like book covers and the Commander read what was written inside. There must have been quite a lot of writing because his eyes remained on the card for an inordinately long time, his eyebrows climbing further and further up his hairless pate until the monocle fell out.

I didn’t know what Grayson had written about us, but I really wished I had one of Cordibar the Tremendous' smoke bombs on me.

Commander Ducane stood up. He gravely shook his head. “It seems I owe you the thanks of my people, and also my personal apology.”

I had no idea what he was talking about. “Why? What did Grayson say?”

Ducane sat down and refitted the monocle to his right eye. It immediately fell out again. “It seems you are the ones responsible for ridding us of the Mouse King. For that, we, the people of Fengarad, will be eternally grateful. My thanks.”

I looked at the others who were as baffled as me. “You’re... welcome? If you don’t mind me saying, you seem quite upset about it. Is there a problem?”

“No, no. Well, yes, but not of your doing. You see, another party of Visitors arrived in Fengarad recently. They had been responsible for clearing a mouse nest, so when I heard the Mouse King had been killed, I’m afraid I assumed they were the ones responsible. They have been awarded the accolades that should have been yours. I am terribly, terribly sorry.”

This news didn’t bother me very much. Personally, I wanted as few people as possible to know about my role in killing the Mouse King and his unborn mice babies. If someone else wanted to take the credit, that was fine by me.

“Ah, excuse me,” said Maurice. “When you say accolades…?”

“The reward for killing a unique beast, such as the Mouse King, is the Key to the City. It allows you both the freedom to go anywhere in Fengarad, including restricted areas such as the Palace and the Seven Spires, and it also grants you the right to an audience with the King himself.”

The Key sounded like a really useful item to have. Not that I had much interest in meeting the King, but the ability to go anywhere in the city, perhaps leading us to clues to why we were here, was definitely something I’d want.

“The key was awarded in a ceremony only two nights ago,” continued Ducane, his eyes fixed on the desk. “It was a wonderful night of celebration.” He was practically choking back the tears. “I can’t believe they didn’t say anything. They’re supposed to be heroes, damn it.”

“They probably didn’t realise,” I said. “The nest was cleared out when we got there. We only discovered the King’s hiding place by accident. When you told the others they’d killed the Mouse King, they probably assumed he was one of the mouse warriors. We had no idea what we’d done until Grayson told us, so I don’t expect the others knew what the Mouse King looked like, either. I’d put it down to an honest mistake.”

Ducane nodded. “You’re probably right. Still, the mistake will have to be rectified. The Palace will be horribly embarrassed because of my error. My only course of action is to take responsibility and try and protect the King’s good name.”

“This Key, are there many of them?” I asked Ducane.

He lifted his head. He really did look sorry for himself. “Indeed. Quite a few have been handed out over the years. I even have one myself, awarded back in my youth. I wasn’t always the pathetic excuse for a soldier you see before you now.”

“Then to atone for your mistake, give us your Key,” I said.

He looked surprised.

“Give us your Key,” I continued, “and don’t tell anyone about the mix up. That way we will have our rightful reward, and the King won’t be embarrassed.”

“But, but…” Ducane seemed to be having difficulty grasping what I was suggesting. “People will think they and not you were the ones who killed the Mouse King.”

I shrugged. “Let them. It means nothing to us, right?” I looked at the others for confirmation. They didn’t seem to understand what I was doing either, but they all made various sounds to confirm they agreed with me.

“You would really forego any recognition of your heroism for the sake of the King?”

I didn’t give a toss about the King, but I had no problem staying out of the spotlight. My whole gameplan was to keep a low profile and attract as little attention as possible. The only thing I wondered about was why the Mouse King was considered such a valuable target. True, we had struggled to kill him, but that was because it was us. The mouse had not been a particularly difficult adversary and I’m sure other groups, or Grayson himself, would have dealt with him easily.

Not that I was going to bring it up, despite my curiosity. The last thing I needed to do was convince Ducane the Mouse King wasn’t that a big deal and our role in his demise was more luck than judgement. I wanted that Key.

“For the sake of the King,” I said, “I think it’s best this way, don’t you?”

“I don’t know how to thank you,” said Ducane, excitedly wringing his hands. He turned to the officer who was still standing beside him. “Laffi, quickly, go to my residence and get my Key. It’s in the reception room, in the glass cabinet by the window.”

The officer darted out of the room.

There was a gleam in Ducane’s eye. I actually think he was happy to be giving up his Key. I suspected he was the type who saw being punished for your mistakes as noble and honorable. “I’ll have to inform the Palace, of course. We can’t have people thinking you’ve stolen my Key. But otherwise, discretion shouldn’t be too hard to maintain.”

“Are you sure it’s okay?” said Claire. “The Key probably means a lot to you.”

If I could have reached from where I was sitting, I’d have slapped the silly cow on the back of the head.

“It means the world to me,” said Ducane. “Which is why it is exactly the sacrifice I need to make.” He turned to me. “I truly am very grateful to you for giving me this chance to make amends.”

“Don’t mention it.” I glared over at Claire, psychically demanding she shut her big mouth. Unfortunately, my psychic powers appeared to be on the fritz, as Claire started to say something else.

She didn’t get to vocalise whatever idiotic thought had occurred to her because the door flew open at that point.

“Ducane! Why was I not informed there were Visitors here?”

Standing in the doorway was a teenage girl. Her bellowing voice didn’t seem to match her slight frame and babyish face, but then neither did her outfit. Think of the kind of uniform every crazy dictator designs for themselves as soon as they get in power. Braids, ribbons, tassels, gold trim and brass buttons-a-go-go. Now add a
My Little Pony
colour scheme—pink jacket, lilac jodhpurs, rainbow epaulets—and top it off with masses of red hair. Not ginger, bright red.

“Your highness!” said Ducane, standing to attention and dipping his head. “They only just got here.”

“That’s what you always say. Thankfully my spies are everywhere. Don’t you forget it, Ducane. Everywhere.” She walked around to get a proper look at us, at which point, her face fell. “Oh. How disappointing.”

I looked at Ducane for some kind of explanation.

“Ah, yes. This is Her Royal Highness, Princess Laney, youngest daughter of the King. And these are—”

“Never  mind,” said the princess waving a dismissive hand at Ducane. “I know who they are. I’ve already met with the other Visitors and they were very clear about the three remaining parties. The Posers, the Losers and the Cowards. It’s more than obvious which you are.”

“Is it?” I said, more than a little annoyed by Little Miss Bossy Boots (the boots were purple, in case you’re wondering). “And what did they call themselves? The Super Smashing Super Squad?”

“No, actually they’re called The Avengers.”

“What!” Maurice was on his feet, eyes popping out of his head. “How
dare
they! You can’t just take that name. I won’t allow it!”

Of all the things to be morally outraged by in this world, this, apparently, was a bridge too far for Maurice. Appropriating the name of Earth’s Mightiest Movie Franchise was where Maurice drew a line in the sand.

Claire pulled an incandescent Maurice down into his chair.

“And the members of The Avengers?” I asked.

“Don’t call them that!” wailed Maurice.

“Tin, Dag, Marlon, Mandy, Amy and Jenny.” She gave me a sarcastic smile. “They’re all good friends of mine.”

I wasn’t surprised it was them, although hearing Jenny’s name gave me an odd feeling. At least she was okay.

Flossie raised her hand. I’m not sure who’s permission she was seeking, but I felt obliged to give her a nod.

“If we’re all posers, losers and cowards,” she said, “why’d you want to meet us?”

The princess put her hands on her hips. “According to my good friends in The Avengers, the Posers are quite handsome, so I wanted to see for myself. I appreciate a pretty boy as much as the next girl. But instead, it’s you, the Losers.” She rolled her eyes. “I would have preferred it to be the group of girls, even if they are cowards.”

The mention of the girls set my teeth a little on edge. The memory of seeing them was still quite raw for me, and I didn’t appreciate the princess’s snide comments.

I wanted to put the little bitch in her place, tell her exactly what I thought of her, but that wouldn’t be wise. Even though she was just a kid—I’d put her around thirteen—she could still make trouble for us. I’m sure Daddy would happily chop off our heads if his precious baby asked him to. I decided to keep my thoughts to myself and wait for her to get bored and leave. The sensible choice.

“Honestly,” said the princess, “how can you expect to survive in this world if you’re too scared to kill anything. I hope they’re lying dead in some ditch, somewhere. It’s what people like that deserve.”

Of course, sensible and me have never been great friends.

“By the way,” I said to Ducane, “if by chance I do something truly heroic, like… kill a dragon or save the city—you know, something really big—do you think the King would grant me any reward I wanted?”

“Certainly,” said Ducane. “Traditionally, the King will give a true hero whatever he asks for.”

“What if I wanted to marry a princess?” I asked.

“That is actually one of the more common requests. I’ve never known it to be refused.”

I looked at Princess Laney, who had her eyes narrowed at me. “Even if the princess in question isn’t very keen?”

“Well,” said Ducane, “royal marriages tend to be political. Princesses rarely get a say in these matters. Oh.” He finally noticed the princess glaring at me.

I had no intention of marrying a child, and I had even less intention of fighting any dragons, but if I wanted to give her something to have sleepless nights over, what could be more horrifying than the thought of spending the rest of her life with me?

“You wouldn’t dare,” snarled the princess. Then her face crumbled. “Please, forgive me, I was out of line.” Tears streamed down her face. “I won’t make fun of you any more, I promise.” And then, in less time than it takes to snap your fingers, her face transformed into a huge grin and she burst into laughter. “Oh, it’s too funny. You? Kill a dragon?” She laughed again, her eyes huge and wild. “Oh, whatever will I do if you ask for my hand, brave knight?” And then she twisted her face into a mask of pure hate. “Let me make you an offer, loser. If you do anything worthy of a meeting with my father, I will not only agree to be your bride, I will get on my knees and lick your boots in the middle of our wedding ceremony. If you’re going to try and scare me, let’s make the stakes nice and high, hmmm, huuuuu-s-baaaand?”

Which was when I realised my mistake. Ogres, rapists, taking mice with spears—they didn’t come close to the terror I felt looking into the eyes of this thirteen year old girl. She was fucking insane.

I wanted to say, “Just kidding,” and get the hell out of there, but I was frozen in my chair.

Laffi, the officer Ducane had sent off, came running in carrying a velvet box.

I stood up. “Thank you, Princess, I agree to your terms.” I turned to Ducane. “We need to get going. Could you direct us to the Municipal Directory?”