How to Rescue a Dead Princess (20 page)

“Thanks a lot!” said Randall. “This will be very helpful!” He turned around to climb back down the cliff.

“What, you're leaving?”

“Of course.”

“You don't want to sit around and talk or anything? It's a lonely life up here as a Wise Man. People just ask their questions and then leave me here by myself.”

“Well, you know, if you didn't act so snotty about people only being allowed three questions, they'd probably be more inclined to hang around.”

“So, you think it's my personality that drives people away? I always thought they were just intimidated by my far-reaching wisdom.”

“No, it's definitely the personality. And the location. I mean, here you are on top of a treacherous cliff. Your neighbors aren't going to risk their lives just to pop by for a chat.”

“But I'm a Wise Man. People have to prove themselves worthy for me to answer their questions. If I set up shop in a village, what would be the big deal? I wouldn't be special.”

“But, you see, if you had friends, you
would
be special. Friends are what make us special, not omniscience! Give people a chance to like you for
you
, not for the questions you can answer.”

Warren considered that. “But what if they don't like me? What if I'm not accepted? You know, all it takes is one nudity-related
faux pas
and you can be shunned for life!”

“Look deep within yourself. Do you want this bad enough to take the risk?”

“Yes!” said Warren, almost in tears. “Yes, I do! Thank you so much!”

“I'm glad I could help. Now, I have to be going.”

“Wait a second! There's no way I can get off this cliff!”

“Oh. That's a problem.”

“So ... maybe I should just be less snotty about the three questions?”

“Yeah.”

“Gotcha. Thanks for your help.”

“WELL, I HAVE good news and bad news,” said Randall, returning from the cliff.

“Tell us the good news first,” said Yvonne.

“Actually, the overall impact would be better if I gave you the bad news first.”

“Okay, what's the bad news?”

“I didn't get the strawberry.”

“You suck, Randall,” said Jack.

“But the good news is, I got something even better. Maps to take us to Jenstina and Shreddriff!”

“Oh,” said Yvonne. “I guess a map is
almost
as tasty.”

Randall unfolded the map. “See, the hut where we'll find Jenstina the Ogre is right about ... whoops, that's a bit further than I expected.”

“How far?” asked Jack.

“Five thumb-lengths on the map, which translates to five thousand miles. Looks like the Mountain of Rock is on the very edge of the land, right before you fall off.” He unfolded the other map. “Let's see, the island where we'll find Shreddriff the Berserker is also five thousand miles away ... in the opposite direction.”

“Is that five thumb-lengths, too?” asked Jack.

Randall looked pained. “I'm dead. Including round trips, that's twenty thousand miles we have to cover! It's impossible!”

“Nothing's impossible,” said Yvonne. “Except an interesting game of Royal Golf.”

“We live in an age of magic,” said Jack. “Find a magician willing to transport you there. The new regulations are fairly stringent, but a good bribe should take care of that.”

“That idea's so crazy it just might work!” said Randall. “Except that I'm almost broke. What about the rest of you?”

“Barely a dvorkin to my name,” said Jack.

“Forgot my fortune under my mattress,” Yvonne admitted.

“I know where there are riches beyond your imagination!” said Bug.

“Really? Where?”

“In your hearts, where the love is kept!”

“Look, there has to be a quick way to make some money,” said Randall, “but our first priority should be to find a corrupt magician, so we'll ask at the next town. Though, of course we won't ask
specifically
for a corrupt magician at first, which would be tacky.”

“Hey!” Warren's barely-audible voice called from the top of the cliff. “I changed my mind! I think I can make it down there, if you'll give me a couple hours!”

“No!” Randall shouted back. “We're in a hurry!”

“Aw, c'mon! I thought we were buddies! Oooh—that joint doesn't sound so good, better add another half hour!”

“Let's get going,” said Randall.

“Having a bit of trouble with the ol’ motor functions!” shouted Warren. “I'll catch up with you, okay?”

“No problem,” Randall shouted back, as they moved onward.

IT TOOK MOST of the day to reach the next town, which was called Warfield. The fact that this town was having serious problems was immediately evident from the toilet paper strewn over every single structure in sight.

WHOMEVER invaded this town had been remarkably thorough. The toilet paper was everywhere they looked, as was graffiti saying “The Dark One is really cool” and “The Dark One: He may be ugly but at least he's not as psychotic as that one guy from that place.” There were no people in sight.

“Who is the Dark One?” Randall wondered aloud. “What kind of inhuman monster would tee-pee an entire town? What if it rains?”

They all took a minute to think about it, then proceeded down the street, searching for signs of life, or at least a few telltale corpses to let them know that people had died recently. But there was nobody.

“Do you think everybody fled?” asked Yvonne.

“From a mess like this? I'm sure of it,” said Jack.

“No, wait—look at that message,” said Randall, pointing to the side of a hut, upon which was painted
The residents of this fine, previously litter-free town have been kidnapped by the Dark One, so whine all you want
.

Within the hut, there was a crash as something shattered. “Go away!” screamed a man from inside. “I'll throw another plate at you! I mean it! And this one won't hit my ceiling!”

“Who are you?” Randall asked.

“Thank goodness!” said the man. “You can't be part of the marauders. They would never take such an interest in my personal life.” The front door opened, and the man stepped out. He was middle-aged and fairly nondescript, except for his face, which was somewhat descript but not all that much. “My name is Toby. Do you see what they've done to this place?”

“Tell us what happened,” said Randall.

“It was horrible! Horrible, I say! Horrible, I say again! There were ten dozen of them! Men in black armor, with really creepy pictures carved on their helmets! They marched down our main street, then one of them demanded that we surrender to the Dark One. But Frank, this really dumb guy who'd been sucking down ale since nine in the morning, said no. So they began ravaging our town! They goosed our women! They gave noogies to our men! And there was nothing I could do. They gave my brother a charley horse while I watched, helpless.”

Yvonne wiped a tear from her eye. “And then what?”

“And then...” Toby's voice cracked, “...they started with the wedgies.”

“Fiends!” said Jack.

“They've taken everyone away,” said Toby. “I only escaped by pretending to be an incredibly realistic, self-moving mannequin with a pulse. I've lost almost everything! I can only be thankful that my edge-to-edge rapid transportation service remained unharmed.”

“Oh, speaking of transportation,” said Randall, “we're looking for a magician that could take us to the Mountain of Rock. Do you know of one who lives in this region?”

“Nope,” said Toby. “The magicians in this area tend to be pretty amateurish—bunnies from hats, dvorkins from ears, tumors from brains ... you know, useless stuff. I've transported people just about everywhere in this land, and met lots of magicians, and I'd say that your best shot is the wizard Valeman, who lives about a three-day walk from here.”

“Valeman, huh? Never heard of him.”

“Well, there is kind of a problem in that he won't transport anyone who doesn't weigh exactly one hundred and seventy-eight pounds, which I don't think any of you do.”

Randall sighed. “He can't be all that great of a magician if he can only handle exactly one hundred and seventy-eight pounds.”

“Actually, it's a personal choice. He's very odd.”

“Any other recommendations?”

“Not that I can think of off the top of my head. Really, all the good magicians are far from here.”

“Could you think harder? We really, really need a way to get to the Mountain of Rock.”

“What's so special about the Mountain of Rock? I've taken people there dozens of times and didn't see anything worth visiting.”

“It's kind of a long story.”

“Then forget it. Long stories are boring.” Toby had a sudden thought. “Hey, there
is
a wizard up there on the Mountain of Rock, now that I think of it. If you guys want, I'll take you up there to see him.”

“That would be nice,” said Randall, “but we don't want to be a bother.”

“Oh, well, I guess you have a good point there,” Toby agreed. “Ah, what the heck? I'll take you anyway, and since I'm such a great guy I'll only add ten percent to my fee for your lack of two weeks’ notice.”

“The fee could be a problem,” said Randall. “As we're all pretty much broke.”

“I must say, your mental grasp upon what could be a problem is surprisingly accurate.”

“And, let's face it,” said Randall. “The Mountain of Rock is pretty far to travel just to find a magician to teleport us to the Mountain of Rock.”

“That it is. I wish you all luck in your endeavors.”

They started down the street again, but had gone no more than five steps before Toby's belt began beeping. He groaned and gave it a light tap, shutting it off. “That better not be my mom,” he said. “She's always calling me on this thing, asking if I'm eating three square meals a day, bugging me about getting married to this really young lady with zits on her lips.” He removed the belt buckle and glanced at the magically luminous number that flashed upon it. “Oh, hey, it's one of my clients!”

As Randall and the other watched, Toby took a small golden device out of his pocket, punched in some numbers, and spoke into one end. “Rowder? Toby. Yeah ... yeah ... yeah ... yeah ... yeah ... yeah ... yeah ... yeah ... cool.” He put the device back into his pocket. “Hey, I've got good news for you people!”

“Let's hear that first,” said Yvonne.

“This guy Rowder just called from the Mountain of Rock, said he wants me to pick him up. If you're willing to provide some political debate along the way, I'd be happy to give you a lift for free.”

“That's fantastic!” said Randall.

“One thing, you'd have to leave the bug here. I don't transport insects.”

“But that's prejudiced,” Yvonne told him.

Toby's eyes widened. “Gosh, you're right! I'm a bigot! Wow, looks like it's time for some serious changes in my value system, huh? Sure, bring the bug along. Follow me, everybody—our chariot awaits!”

THEIR CHARIOT was similar in concept to a boat. One that would spontaneously combust upon touching water and turn the occupants into squid chow. Basically, it was a strip of iron, upon which were eight seats. These seats were fitted with straps with which to restrain hand and foot movement, and were spotted with dried blood. Toby stepped up onto the framework and began turning the handle of a body-stretching rack that was installed at the front. As he cranked, a large black sail was raised.

“Don't mind the implements of torture that this is constructed from,” said Toby. “I got a good deal on used parts when King Waldo of Sharku upgraded to a more aerobic-type torture system.”

“How exactly does this thing work?” asked Jack, uneasily.

“See this?” asked Toby, patting a small metal box attached to the rack, next to a few other contraptions. “This is a magical engine, created by a wizard the night before a spell of his backfired and blew him up. It makes this machine, which to the naked eye appears to be a death trap for the hard-core suicidal maniac, into a flying thing with all the grace of the eagle. Hop aboard. Pick any of the twelve seats you want.”

“There are only eight seats,” Randall pointed out.

“That's right, I keep forgetting that four of them have fallen off over the past few days. Silly me.”

“How many people have died on this thing?” asked Jack.

“Not a single one,” Toby assured him. “It's the hard ground that's the real killer. Can't blame my machine if the ground refuses to budge for a plummeting body, can we?”

“I guess not,” said Jack.

“Time's a-wastin', so everyone grab a seat,” said Toby, pressing some buttons on the box. There was a loud whirring sound, and the machine began to vibrate. Randall, Yvonne, Jack, and Bug all reluctantly boarded and sat down. “I would tell you to fasten your safety harnesses, but they don't come off again. Just hold on tight.”

The machine began to slide across the ground, sending off sparks that ignited a bush that was eventually to burn down the entire town because of all the highly-flammable toilet paper. And then, it lifted into the air, just as a copper thing with two levers fell off.

“Don't worry about that,” said Toby. “I never knew what it was for anyway.”

The machine sailed higher, higher, higher, lower ("Aaaah! We're all gonna die! We're all gonna die!” screamed Toby. “No, wait, I just pushed the wrong button."), higher. The beauty of the land below was truly impressive, even if the passengers were disturbing it with their occasional purging of stomach contents. They continued picking up speed and unwanted birds.

“Wow,” said Randall, “the clouds are incredible from up here. That one looks just like a doggie.”

“That one looks just like two lovers strolling in the moonlight,” said Bug.

“That one looks like an unleashed demon, hunting its mortal prey in the form of two lovers strolling in the moonlight,” said Jack.

“That one looks like a puff of smoke,” said Yvonne.

“That one's ugly,” said Toby.

They passed through the clouds and sailed above them. Toby turned around and smiled at the others.

“So, what do you think? Pretty fun, huh?”

“I have to admit, I was leery at first,” said Randall, “but I'm actually enjoying this. How long do you think it'll take to get there?”