Kingdom of the Snark: Kingdom Smackdown

By Melanie Hatfield

The adventure comes to its long-winded conclusion in "Kingdom of the Snark: Kingdom Smackdown," being the part of the tale where the entire kingdom comes together for one final epic battle.

Transition never goes smoothly for Renee the Righteous. Just as she is about to be crowned as the queen of Quaal, Sister Ferriera attacks her castle with her wicked army of nuns. Renee escapes but must return with an army of her own to save the monks. Cut off from the people who could aid her, she has no choice but to once again call upon the help of Guy Smokes on her quest... but will he be so willing to provide assistance after what happened last time?

Guy has his own problems to deal with, after all. The nuns destroyed his home village of Mudville and took Pac prisoner in their not-so-secret lair. He sets off to the Caves of Sorrow to save her, but will he succeed with Renee the Righteous’ company holding him back? Perhaps Pac can rescue herself with her growing magical powers, if she can dodge Zephyr and the Soothsayer determined to put her soul into her proper body.

Will Renee ever defeat Sister Ferriera? Will Guy ever get a lady he can keep? Will this story ever actually end, or shall it continue on and on into a 30 book series? Make one last journey to a land where unicorns shall always be jerks in "Kingdom of the Snark: Kingdom Smackdown," being the third part of The Righteous Trilogy.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Melanie Hatfield
• Release date: Oct 5, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310401404

Melanie Hatfield

Melanie Hatfield spent a decade in Los Angeles with hopes of becoming a television sitcom writer. That dream did not come true, but she learned how to write like a pro. She wrote her first fantasy series, Kingdom of the Snark, to incorporate her two favorite genres of comedy and fantasy. Her second fantasy series, The Chronicles of Turrack is an action-adventure spin-off from Snark. Ms. Hatfield currently lurks in her hometown of Kansas City and writes whatever she pleases!

Book preview

Huzzah!

‘Tis the Prologue!

A blocky figure clad in black scaled the walls of the Golden Castle. It was not an easy feat for a man, as the castle itself spiraled beyond the clouds, and he was at an altitude where a bird would feel lightheaded. The man had little on his person except for his black garb from head to toe, and a belt that carried a few knives. He was dangerously under-armed, but lightness was his key to scaling such a monstrosity of a castle. He propelled himself with handheld hooks, each one registering a ting-tang-ting-tang that went unheard by the patrolling Golden Guard.

Weary, the man in black hoisted himself over a railing. The balcony was dark with the night, and only half of the moon shined down on the man’s perch. He scanned the area before he slumped into a corner. He placed his hooks upon his belt, catching his breath before he would scale the next section of the castle—the part that led to the Queen and King’s chambers.

And then a shadow dropped in from above, landing right in front of him.

Not in my house, stupid, the shadow said, the growl of her tone adding to her threat.

The assassin jumped to his feet, and the shadow plunged a fist into his lower gut. He doubled over, and the shadow planted her shoulder underneath his torso. With a soft grunt, she flipped him over the railing. He did not have a chance to grab his hooks or other weaponry before he fell.

The smile of self-satisfaction that spread across the face of Tina the Terrible was covered by her mask—a black veil sewn into the hood’s rim of her black cloak. Her black garb was as sleek as panther’s fur. She only had fourteen years of life under her belt, and her tight outfit could not hide her budding figure. The steel bra she wore underneath her black shirt may have exaggerated her breasts, but it was better for witnesses to think of Tina as being more voluptuous than her true persona, Princess Azedeh Davani Sunflower.

She watched the invading assassin’s black figure become a red speck when he splattered upon a lower circle level of the castle. Tina allowed pride to warm her, for she had been an assassin for only two years, and that was the first time she had been able to toss a man by her own strength. She did feel a bit bad for the patrolling guards who came across gravity’s work, and their retches echoed in the quiet night.

Tina gazed at the next castle level above her head. This was the fifth assassination attempt she thwarted in a month. The first three men were slain by the Golden Guard before the would-be killers could get past the castle gate. The fourth killer fell to her death when she underestimated a leap between balconies. The fifth one was idiotic enough to brag about his plans in a local tavern that Tina staked out to eradicate the scumbags of the kingdom she was destined to inherit. With each passing night the princess spent in her Tina persona, the more she realized that the kingdom her parents protected was out to slay them.

No one threatened her family, and she would not be able to sleep until she saw for herself that her parents were safe.

Tina opened a small pouch upon her belt filled with Sticky Pads (as they were commonly called in Turrack, although they were actually lily pads that developed a sticky goo so amphibians would not slip off them during mating rituals). She placed a pad upon her gloves and the soles of her high-laced boots before she scaled up the next level of the castle. Although the plant was not strong enough to be a true adhesive, it did allow her to hang onto the wall long enough to propel herself upward. She barely broke a sweat, having performed such physically exhausting acts several times before.

She was only three feet away from the railing for the upper level above her. She reached up with her left hand, but the pad had run out of goo and she slipped. She dangled from her right hand, but it was not powerful enough to keep her up. She slid slowly down; the world beneath her dangling feet was nothing more than a tiny speck from where she was.

Tina swung her body upwards just as the goo on the right pad gave out. She outstretched her feet, hooking the toes of her boots between the base and the steel bars that made up the railing. Her heart bounced from her throat to her belly as she hung upside down, apparently destined to meet the same fate as the man she had just tossed. Her body still swung from her momentum, and she used the palm of her gloved hands to pull herself up, keeping her feet around the bars. Tina grabbed the railing bars when she was within reach. She unhooked her toes from the bars, using the remaining goo of the Sticky Pads on the soles of her boots to climb over the railing.

Tina was more alarmed by the light of torches and lanterns than by her brief (and somewhat reoccurring) brush with death. She darted to the shadows, flattening her back against the wall. She had not heard the firm footfalls of the Golden Guard, but she was too distracted from her near fall to have been paying attention.

Stupid girl—if there was one thing that she learned as an assassin of evil doers, it is that inattentiveness leads to a humiliating death… or capture if the vile fiend has worse plans in mind.

There was no one patrolling the area she was in—a bit alarming for Tina since this was where her parents’ chambers were located. She slunk in the shadows, being careful not to step in the areas lit by the torches. The flames should have been snuffed out hours ago. Could it be possible that her parents were still awake? Perhaps another assassin had slipped past her, using the man she just killed as a decoy as he performed his deadly task.

Tina quickened her pace, not being mindful of the echoes of her steps.

Curtains of gold billowed through the open door that led to her parents’ main chamber. Tina looked for evidence of a break-in but saw nothing. It was possible that her mother had become overheated in the summer night and opened it up for air. Tina peered around the open door, making certain that no one saw her dart inside.

She tucked herself into a roll and landed upon her feet behind a large couch of crimson. She was in the sitting area of the chamber, which had half a dozen such pieces of furniture in the gilded room, but none of them could camouflage the princess in black. She thought about hanging from the ceiling like a bat, but the room was lit with enough lanterns to make even the darkest corner seem like dusk.

I cannot stay in this room any longer, the voice of Tina’s mother rang from behind the closed door of the adjacent room. I need the cool air that fills the sitting room.

But we risk someone hearing our debate, my Queen, protested the calm and authoritative voice of Tina’s uncle.

The woman with the lilac eyes rules all, retorted the voice of Tina’s father, even those bound to her by marriage. I do not think we need to fear anyone hearing us.

Tina searched in a panic for a proper hiding place. There was a wardrobe against the wall behind her. It seemed a bit plain in comparison to the extravagance of the room as it was not painted with bright colors or encrusted with jewels, but it was carved from ancient Rustigold steel and had been in her family for over 500 years. It was also empty and large enough for Tina to hide inside.

She jumped into the antique wardrobe, keeping the door ajar, and watched her family enter from the other room.

King Randall Sunflower poked his head out first. He still had the build of a Quester brave and true, but now the hairs upon his head matched the Snowy Mountains of the northern kingdom in Andra. His jaw was shaven clean to avoid the appearance of a snow beast. His fluorescent orange eyes still twinkled with the energy of his youth, and he scanned the area with such intensity that he made Tina shrink where she squatted when his gaze came to the wardrobe. He was wrapped in a golden silk robe stitched with the image of a sunflower across the front, flashing the bare mahogany skin of his limbs. He wore matching slippers but bore no crown upon his head.

See, dear brother? There is no one around to hear our discussion. I ordered the Golden Guard to give me privacy, and thusly they are not patrolling this area.

Works for me, said Queen Yamita as she barged past her husband. Her swollen belly nearly flattened him as she waddled past, plopping herself upon the couch that Tina had just abandoned as her hiding place.

Much better, the Queen sighed as she allowed the summer evening’s breeze to ruffle her golden silk nightgown. Her ebony skin glistened with sweat, and the bare feet she planted upon the ottoman were swollen from the burden of oncoming motherhood.

I would like to close the outer door just a little bit, said Vencel Delphinium as he entered the sitting room, still dressed in his high court doublet of crimson with the sunflower image across his chest. His red eyes surveyed the area, his square jaw clenched. You never know when a grunt may pass by unaware of your privacy orders.

From behind Vencel, silent but no less intimidating, entered his wife, Kyla. Her hair was the color of midnight, pulled into a tight, high ponytail. She wore a high court doublet similar to her husband’s but gold in color, and a long sword of gold steel was sheathed upon her belt. Her caramel skin made her one of the paler people in a land hostile to those who were not dark. There was a rumor that anyone so foolish as to make any kind of mocking comment about Kyla’s skin would have found their necks broken with just a glance, and Tina believed it.

You and Kyla know the men best, Vencel, Randall replied, but do not plague yourself with fear. This discussion shall end shortly, and you both can enjoy the pleasures of your marriage soon enough.

Randall chuckled as Vencel and Kyla blushed—lucky guess, but Randall’s mind always dwelt on such affairs.

It is already over, Queen Yamita said, throwing a cold stare at her husband. I already told you to tear up that letter. That was the end of it.

You were the one who changed the words of our kingdom from ‘Resolve your own problems’ to ‘We stand as one,’ King Randall replied. Are you suggesting we ignore the pleas of this young Quester who claims to be kin with Gerald the Generous?

Gerald—that was a name that rang familiar in Tina’s mind, although more from the stories her father told her as a child than of living memory. She had only four years of life under her belt the last time the Quester from Quaal visited the castle, but he gave her a wooden sword for her birthday. The gift was disapproved by her mother, naturally, but the play fights she had with her father were the first time they bonded. Before that, Randall was too awkward around such a delicate little girl for him to spend much time with her. The only memory Tina still carried of Gerald was the forlorn expression on his face when he left her aunt’s chambers to return back to Quaal.

Queen Yamita snorted. My words reflect the unity of our kingdom, not the willingness to risk our necks for a war that is not ours. Gerald has not written a letter to my sister in about two years, and the broken heart she carries gives me no reason to jump to his kin’s aid.

Randall shuffled to his wife, sitting down next to her. If it were not for Gerald, you would not have survived long enough to become queen, and we would not have the beautiful children we have created.

Randall rubbed the Queen’s belly. Her hand met his and she gave his fingers a squeeze. I still would prefer it if you were to ignore the letter. I shall deliver our third child in a few weeks, and I would not have you miss the birth for any delay in Quaal or an unforeseen death in a foreign battle.

Tina held the lump that formed in her throat.

Randall emitted a deep chuckle. My dear, just because you gave me a crown does not mean that I have buried Randall the Rambunctious for dead. I lived in Quaal for twenty years, and I did not perish by sword or otherwise.

But you have not been to Quaal in sixteen years, Vencel piped in as respectfully as he could. He strolled around the room as he spoke, patrolling the area like any proper foot soldier, his orange eyes surveying every inch of the décor.

Tina closed the door of the wardrobe before his gaze caught her. Kyla stared in her direction but made no motion toward her hiding place. She remained standing, stiff as a board, ever vigilant with her duties. It was not hard to believe why people thought Vencel was the nice co-Head Commanding General of the Golden Guard.

I am certain Quaal has not changed that much, Randall snapped. Besides, going there may be the only way I can find Gerald. I am certain he would not leave Tatiana brokenhearted for any reason, unless something wicked overcame him.

Did the letter reveal anything about his fate? Yamita asked, concern tainting her tone for the first time during their discussion.

No, Randall sighed. It only mentions that the nuns of Quaal have ravaged the lands laying waste to everyone and everything, and they plan to do the same throughout the land of Andra.

Their wickedness has already spread, Vencel said, finally sitting down upon the couch next to his brother. I was hoping to report this to you in private, dear brother, but I suppose it shall help things out if the Queen hears this as well. As you are both aware, I have received numerous reports of a figure in black slaying any Turrack trader who crosses the border into Quaal.

I heard the black figure was Tina the Terrible, Randall said with a shudder that cut Tina’s soul. She constantly leaves the heads and dead bodies of wicked people upon my doorstep. I have no doubt she is leaving me a warning and shall try to make an attempt on my life at some point.

I leave you the bodies so you know that the evil people are dead and you are safe, Tina would have protested, but she held her tongue to keep her location secret and made a mental note to stop leaving bodies… well, not counting the man she just threw over the railing.

Tina tends to slay those who are notoriously wicked, Kyla piped in, and I thought it was uncharacteristic for her to kill innocent traders. We sent our best men to investigate, and they reported that there are several, possibly thousands, of black figures patrolling our borders. All of them were women who wore the same outfit.

As Kyla spoke, Vencel went back into the adjacent room and returned with a sack stained with blood. He took out a nun’s habit, torn with the gashes of swordplay. Is this not the garb that nuns wear, as Gerald the Generous drew in our records before he last departed? he asked.

Randall gazed upon the cloth and nodded. If Quaal’s problem has spilled upon Turrack land, then it is my duty as King to defend our people and vanquish these nuns.

There is still the matter of the Law of Royalty Restrictions, Yamita said. A Turrack royal may not leave this kingdom under penalty of death.

A law I have been trying to overturn for years, Randall growled.

And every time you bring it up with the people, they refuse to eliminate it. If you are caught leaving Turrack, the people could vote to have you executed, and my authority cannot save you from that fate.

But I am not of pure royal blood as you are, Randall protested. I still think the law does not apply to me since those of common blood are allowed to travel to other lands if they wish.

And very few do so, Kyla commented, except for trading, and that has dwindled because of these killings.

I would think the people would be more grateful, Randall lamented. I saved them from mutant dandelions. I spread the kingdom’s wealth and rebuilt the slums as a respectable place to live. I have traveled to every village and helped the people in all that I can.

Perhaps that is why they do not want you to leave, Yamita said. You are such a beloved king that they would hate to lose you to some wicked fate… as would I. She rested her head upon Randall’s shoulder and nuzzled his neck.

If anyone should journey to Quaal, it should be us, Vencel said, taking Kyla’s hand. We are the Head Commanding Generals of the Golden Army. I would think that title would come with the responsibility of protecting these lands.

Yes, Randall said, but to protect from the inside. Besides, you two know nothing about Quaal’s terrain.

You and Gerald made plenty of maps that we could use, Kyla replied.

It is not the same. Things could have changed in the sixteen years I have been absent.

You recently proclaimed that it would not have changed very much, Vencel said, crossing his arms over his chest.

Randall laughed. All right, so I spoke hastily. However, even if the lands are in ruin as this Renee the Righteous has described, I would still know enough to figure out where I am and where I need to go.

And where exactly do you need to go in Quaal? Yamita asked.

To the Dark Castle, where the monks rule over the survivors of the onslaught.

And how far away is it?

About three weeks, I believe, Randall muttered.

So three weeks to get there and three weeks to get back. You would have to turn around the minute you arrived to get back in time for the birthing.

Six weeks is plenty of time since you are not due for eight.

I could deliver early, or have you already forgotten that our son arrived four weeks before the birthing doctor’s prediction.

And the babe that grows in your belly may not be born at all if these nuns invade our lands. I must protect Turrack, even if I have to break the rules to do so. If the people catch me and vote for my death, so be it.

Tina’s masked lilac eyes grew wide.

No one shall know, Vencel said. I shall remain in Turrack and feign that you have grown ill and must be restricted to bed rest. Kyla can order guards to protect your chambers so no one enters and discovers the truth.

So shall my husband travel to Quaal alone? Yamita snapped.

I shall take only three hundred men with me, Randall said. They shall have to be high ranking men who have been by my side in previous battles, for the ones who did not try to kill me when I lead them toward death in previous battles are the only men I can trust with this secret quest.

I have listings of such men, Vencel said. We should probably add some generous compensation of gold to ensure they keep their mouths shut.

Dead men tell no secrets, Tina muttered under her breath, fingering the hilt of a knife upon her belt.

If it comes to that, then so be it, Randall spoke to his brother as he cracked a yawn. The night has grown late. We should get as much rest as we can before I depart.

You shall leave with your men and supplies in three nights from now, Vencel said. Leaving in darkness shall aid with secrecy.

I am still not happy with this, Yamita chimed as she stifled a yawn of her own.

And I shall suffer for the remainder of my days because of your ill content, Randall grumbled as he escorted his wife to bed.

Vencel and Kyla snuffed out the remaining light. Just as he snuffed out the last lantern, Kyla whispered into his ear.

I shall meet you in bed, dear. Something in the air has pricked the hairs upon the back of my neck. I want to make another round along this floor or I shall never be able to concentrate on… us.

Vencel smiled. Your diligence is alluring. I do not sense any danger, but do what you must. All I ask is that you do not keep my bed cold for long.

He kissed his wife long and hard upon her lips before departing. Kyla faced the wardrobe, her hands placed behind her back at ease.

Rest is not easy to find when Tina the Terrible stalks the Golden Castle.

Tina jumped upon her aunt’s back, cupping both her hands around Kyla’s mouth. Tina had snuck out of the wardrobe during the smooching—another silly mistake people often made to let their guard down.

You do realize I must accompany my father, Tina whispered into Kyla’s ear.

Curse it, Azedeh! Kyla hissed.

Kyla was strong, swift, and had nearly a foot of height on Tina. She spun around and wrapped her arm around Tina’s waist before she could jump off. Tina flipped over and Kyla carried her as if she were a board of wood tucked under her arm. She cupped her firm hand over Tina’s mouth as she carried her out of the chambers.

I can walk, you know, Tina said as Kyla carried her down the hallway, her voice muffled by her aunt’s hand.

Be silent, child, Kyla replied with a tone of ice.

Tina swallowed hard. She had faced foes of greater strength than her aunt, although none of those evil men were as terrifying as when Kyla was angered.

Kyla took her to the closest washroom. Tina landed upon her feet when she dropped her, allowing Kyla to lock the doors. The room was as extravagant as the rest of the castle, with a large tub of white marble big enough for six grown men. The room had a purple carpet lush enough to emulate the softest bed, and the windows carved into the wall allowed enough moonlight to enter so that it illuminated everything.

I should have known that if any ears were to pick up our discussion, they would belong to you, Kyla said. I thought we have discussed before that ‘Tina’ was not to be seen in the Golden Castle.

That was before ‘she’ heard an assassin brag about his plans to slay the Queen and King, Tina replied. By the way, sorry for the mess on level six. I am certain the men shall have his guts cleaned up before sunrise.

Kyla grimaced. It is not your duty to protect.

It shall be when I become queen, and I need a lot of practice—but I am not in the mood to have this discussion again. I shall need you to cover for me as well when father takes his journey to Quaal.

You must remain here, Kyla growled. You are of royal blood and cannot leave Turrack.

I also cannot leave my father’s back open to the swords of wicked foreign women.

Kyla sighed, but her stern expression did not lessen. You have heard plenty of tales about your father’s adventures in Quaal. He can take care of himself.

You did not seem so certain of that when you spoke to him.

Kyla clenched her oval jaw. When your father asked me to train you as a proper Quester, it was only supposed to be in self-defense—to protect yourself from those who mean to harm you, not to go out seeking dangers.

Father may have been one of the mightiest Questers in Quaal years ago, Tina continued her argument, but today is a different matter. He has sixty-five years of life under his belt now, and he is not the strapping youth he was when he first ventured into those lands. I would feel better if I were nearby to ensure his safety, even if I am restricted to the shadows… I know you would feel better, too. After all, he made you the first female commander of the Golden Guard in our kingdom’s history. You owe him for that and much more.

Kyla took in several deep breaths before she released a sigh. It is bad enough that I know about your secret and your father does not, but I can only coax my daughter to be your double for so long. It works for a few days, but this journey shall take weeks. My Evangeline does not have the eye color required to be you if Azedeh must appear in court.

That shall not happen, for I have no doubt that my mother shall oversee all court matters. She may be swollen with my newest sibling, but she is strong and never shirks on royal duty. Also, you can tell people I caught the same illness my father has, and just have Evangeline wrapped up in my bed hacking and sneezing. It shall give credibility to my father’s alibi.

Kyla’s frown melted as her lower lip quivered. Every night that you come to me with fresh bruises and gashes, I die inside. If you were to perish before your father’s eyes, even to use your body to shield him from danger, I can just envision him taking his own life after your inner light disappears in his arms.

And I shall plunge a blade into my own chest if he perishes on this journey, Tina said, her tone jumping as lumps formed in her throat. If anything happens to him, I shall only blame myself for having the means of protecting him and not exercising them.

Kyla stood silent, holding Tina still with the gaze of her eyes—that piercing stare as green as a meadow coated with the morning dew. "Come to my workshop after lunch tomorrow. Now go to bed and do not let anyone see you in that outfit."

Tina obeyed without argument. She took out more Sticky Pads and climbed out the window, crawling along the castle walls back to her chambers without being seen (although she later faced another stern lecture from her aunt for performing such a dangerous feat).

She arrived at Kyla’s workshop precisely when her aunt ordered. Tina was Princess Azedeh again, dressed in a silk gown of pink and white lace with a swooping neckline that stopped just above her bosom. The workshop was located in the royal stables, as Kyla found that it was the only place with proper ventilation for her leathering and blacksmith hobby skills. Her area was actually three stables combined into one, with the tools of her craft decorating the walls and benches. She had sent the stable workers away, ensuring a private audience with her niece.

Kyla helped Azedeh up onto a stool. The princess had to sit with her legs folded together across one side, as her dress did not allow her to properly straddle her perch to keep balance. She thought it would be great practice to tighten her abdominal muscles.

I have given thought to how you may travel without being noticed, Kyla spoke in a hushed tone, just in case her words were to echo into the ears of those outside the stables. The men shall take three carts of supplies with them as part of their disguise as traders. You shall stow away in a trunk that shall be loaded into one of those carts.

That would never work, Azedeh said after a short thought.

I would carve air holes, Kyla replied.

That is not the issue. I risk becoming trapped when a heavier trunk is placed on top of me. If that happens, I cannot escape in time to be of any help in case father needs me. Also, if some curious guard were to take a peek, I would be caught.

You could slip into the cart and hide behind the trunks, Kyla suggested after a thoughtful pause.

That would work at night, but I still risk being seen in the daylight.

You should ride your stallion from behind, Kyla said. I would suggest following on foot like you usually do with your evil victims, but you would be footsore before you leave Turrack and would not be able to keep up.

I do not think I could follow on horse, either, Azedeh said. I would have to travel several miles behind to remain unseen. If something happens, I would not know about it until I caught up and found everyone slain by the nuns. Also, the stable hands shall notice my steed missing, and that shall raise questions.

Kyla fell silent with thought, but it was Azedeh who broke the quiet.

I shall have to strap myself underneath one of the carts, she said. That way, I can remain close to father while remaining unseen.

If a wheel or axel breaks, you shall be caught dangling underneath, Kyla pointed out.

If that should occur, I can slip away quick enough so that no one sees me when they peek underneath. A leather harness shall suffice, one I can slip in and out of with ease. I shall be like a pack upon a traveler’s back, except I would hang from the belly of the cart.

That would work, Kyla replied, although you shall suffer soreness from the bumps along the road.

I know how to keep my muscles warm, Azedeh said, flashing a smile. You taught me how.

Kyla took her measurements (adding a few inches for the steel undergarments) and worked on the harness for two days. She barely finished the job when Tina dropped in from the ceiling at her workshop upon the night of her father’s departure.

We shall have to make this quick, Kyla said after she caught her breath. Tina’s sudden drop-ins always unnerved her a little.

Kyla buckled the harness around Tina’s torso. It was a bit snug, but not enough to restrict breathing or movement. The princess-assassin truly felt like a pack about to be strapped upon someone’s back.

The other straps buckle around the axel, Kyla explained. What are you taking with you for protection?

I have my weapon of choice hidden underneath my outfit, Tina replied, along with some that are sheathed upon my legs and arms.

And your steel undergarments?

All complicated locks of my steel bra and crotch piece are latched to defeat any potential pervert.

What about food and water?

I can sneak enough out of the carts during the night to sustain myself.

And medicine?

I have two pouches of Dandelion Paste to heal any wounds I may suffer.

For some reason, I fear that may not be enough for you.

Tina took off the harness and was glad with how quickly she could remove it.

The men are getting ready now, Kyla said. My husband shall make one of his usual motivational speeches that shall distract them while you strap yourself in. You shall not be able to follow me on foot. You are swift, but they are located in the open fields on the outside of the back gates. You shall not have any cover as the grass is only chest high and there is no other coverage.

I anticipated that, Tina sighed. I shall have to resign with being in your saddlebag.

Even my largest bag would be too snug, Kyla warned. People could potentially see the outline of your body crammed into it.

It is dark, so I doubt anyone would notice. Also, I shall ride upon the left of your horse as the men tend to approach your right side when they ride up to you.

We may not have a choice, Kyla groaned. We certainly do not have any time to think of anything better. My husband is expecting me shortly to accompany his ride back to the castle… after your father has departed.

Thank you for all your aid, dear aunt. Tina stood on the tips of her toes and planted a kiss upon Kyla’s cheek.

Kyla grabbed Tina and yanked her into a tight embrace. Be careful out there, child, she said. If either one of you perish, I shall be the one to perform a dramatic suicide.

She kissed Tina upon her brow before she let her go.

Thus it was that Tina contorted her body into a tight ball to fight into Kyla’s largest saddlebag. The harness strapped upon her petite frame made the leather bag even tighter, but Tina just had to suck it up. A burning sensation in her gut made her aware that this would not be the worst of her oncoming journey. Once Kyla secured the latches of the bag, she rode her brown horse out of the stables.

Tina wrapped her arms around her head as she bounced against the side of the horse. Her lungs did not have the space to take in any deep breaths, so she had to keep telling herself that the cart ride shall be just as uncomfortable and to think of this trip as a warm up. She kept flexing her muscles, reducing the risk of cramping. It was nearly twenty minutes before Kyla’s steed reached the back gates of the city, and another twenty before she reached the fields. If Tina could have seen through the bag, she would have admired her uncle and aunt’s stealthy skills, for they got three hundred men and ten carts (they needed more than originally anticipated) out of the gates without suspicion—not to mention Randall. The men were not dressed in their golden armor but in plain clothes, such as traders would often wear when going abroad, but their protective uniforms were stored in one of the carts for future use.

Tina listened to the sound of men’s whispers, but the leather of the saddlebag smothered most of their words. She heard the hooves of a horse approach Kyla, and her aunt turned her steed aside so the protruding saddlebag was hidden by the beast’s body.

My brother is making a speech up front, Vencel said to Kyla, mounted upon a black stallion. I shall make one back here for the men who cannot hear him, but I fear such boastful idling shall allow time for someone to discover our doings.

I shall ride around the group, Kyla volunteered, and make certain that no one lurks in the shadows.

Except me, Tina thought with a smile.

Vencel nodded before he shouted, Gather around me, men! I must give you all one last briefing before you depart with the King.

The men gathered around their leader, turning their backs against Kyla as she made her ride toward the carts. She brought her horse to a stop when she reached them, located in the middle of the army.

Now is your chance, Kyla hissed as she unlatched the straps upon her saddlebag.

Tina jumped out. She stumbled on her feet for a few steps, for all of her flexing did not prevent all muscles from cramping, but she made use of her situation and tucked into a ball, rolling underneath the closest cart.

She lay still until she saw the last of the hooves of her aunt’s horse speed away.

Tina crawled upon her hands and knees to the head cart. She strapped the harness upon the front end, around the steel beam that encased the spinning rods connected to the wheels. She silently cursed herself as she realized that her legs dangled without restraints. She took out some of the Sticky Pads from her pouch and stuck them to her back of her boots. She planted them against the bottom of the cart and her feet stuck, keeping her legs up—the goo worked better when it was not supporting her entire body weight.

Vencel and Randall rode toward each other when they finished their speeches, meeting halfway at the cart Tina was strapped to. They dismounted, and it was odd for her to see the well-worn boots of a commoner upon her father’s feet, but he was in disguise like the rest of the men.

Thank you, Vencel, and thank Kyla too, her father’s voice boomed. Tina could not fully see them but heard the sound of them patting each other’s back in a last embrace. Do not look so forlorn, dear brother. Although the reasons for this parting a bleak, my heart is lifted to return once more to the land of my adventures.

You do not need to be as bold as you used to, Vencel said. Please keep that in mind.

Randall laughed in a manner that Tina knew must have shaken his belly.

Onward to Quaal! Randall shouted, but the men knew better than to cheer—Kyla’s stern expression reminded them to keep quiet.

Tina’s body jerked when the cart went into motion. Dirt that was kicked up from the wheels smacked her face, but her mask protected her well. If only it could have deflected the rocks.

Chapter One

Preparation for Paranoia

Renee the Righteous paced around a rectangular desk in the Dark Castle’s library. As her Questing outfit was being cleaned in anticipation of tomorrow’s Grand Gathering, she wore a silk gown of purple twilight embedded with so many white gems that she sparkled like the night sky—the same one she wore when she had her first meal with Lieutenant Lival. The skirt of her gown chirped like mating crickets from the speed of her movements. She twirled a finger around a strand of her flaming hair, her sky-colored eyes distant in deep thought.

Be careful that you do not make your dress explode into flames with the friction of your strides, said Brother Malicide with a soft chuckle.

The Head Monk sat firm upon the chair with a plush crimson cushion and could not help but feel like nothing more than a drop of water in the ocean that was the library. The room was a kingdom of its own; its borders defined by walls of books that matched the average castle tower. They were alone, but members of the Dark Guard stood outside the various entryways to make sure they remained that way under Renee’s orders.

Brother Malicide glanced upon the open book before him. He folded his arms across his chest and watched his adopted daughter with soft brown eyes. He wore a white robe that gave him the radiance of an angel, with the licorice hair that grew along the sides of his head made the baldness on top seem like a halo. It was his brother monks who fashioned his attire, for they had named him a saint for coming back from the dead when the nunnery fell, and they felt as though Brother Malicide should look the part. At that particular moment, he exercised all of the saintly patience in his bones as Renee circled around him.

I know the words, Renee said with a clipped tone. I have run them through my mind so often that they appear in my dreams.

Perhaps, Brother Malicide replied with coolness, you would remember more if you spent less time with the lieutenant and more time concentrating on your queenly studies.

Renee nearly choked on her own phlegm. I do not know what you are referring to, dearest Monk Daddy.

Brother Malicide’s tone did not waiver. I sensed Lival’s heart racing last night, and I only feel such a pace whenever I espy you two in an embrace. However, you did more than cuddle last night, did you not?

Renee froze. Sometimes she forgot that a part of Lival’s soul remained inside Brother Malicide, and he could sense everything they did together. Renee could have kicked herself when she could think of nothing for a retort than, Umm…

Do I need to schedule guards to stand watch at your chamber door or tie you to your bed and the lieutenant down upon his own?

No, Renee snapped. I am not the foolish lover you think I am. I have studied the words.

Then prove it by reciting them correctly.

Renee’s swallow was stuck in her throat for a few moments. She stopped in mid-stride, took a step backwards, and faced Brother Malicide from across the table. I, Renee the Righteous, being a mighty Quester and Champion of the Monastery of Quaal, do by swear upon my life to uphold the laws of the Kingdom of Quaal as its Queen. I shall be as the protective father, the nurturing mother, and shall care for my people as such parents care for their children. No task is too small, nor any matter too trivial, for me to turn aside in a haughty scoff. My blood is your blood, my soul is your soul, and my essence belongs to my kingdom.

Renee smirked upon her adopted father, but it melted from her face as he stared at her in silence.

You forgot the part about not turning away from your duties, in good times or bad.

Renee released a groan. I got the gist of it. That shall suffice when I am crowned.

Every monarch in Quaal has spoken these words when they inherited the throne, Brother Malicide said, even King Jesterous.

That king was a psychopathic jerk face, Renee cringed as she reflected upon her misadventures in the last monarch’s magical labyrinth, so I do not think it would so terrible if I did things differently from him.

Brother Malicide rubbed his eyes. I think we are both weary from this royal exercise, he said as he closed the heavy book, and perhaps you shall get all the words right after you have taken some rest. I must admit, I am surprised that this Lord Asher Dark fellow even has such royal law books in his castle. All matters of the last royal House of Quaal were supposed to be stored at the monastery.

It does not surprise me that there is so much dust upon this literature, Renee spoke between coughing fits from the cloud of dust that sprung when Brother Malicide closed the book. It is not uncommon for the highborn to hoard the greatest treasures of the world and then disregard them once something of greater value crosses their paths.

Do not speak so harshly against the highborn, Brother Malicide scolded. As queen, you shall have to treat everyone with equal respect and not give preference for one type of folk over another. Besides, it is for the best that these books were kept here, for they would have been lost forever amongst the ruins of the monastery.

Not all were lost, Renee said. We still have the original Book of Crappola and most of the Great Books that tell the legend of King Jesterous and the Sword of Power, even though they are damaged.

Our brother monks shall mend them back to their original state with time.

I fear we may not have such luxury as we did before the War of the Nuns started, said Renee. The nuns have destroyed many villages of Quaal, with the survivors fleeing here for refuge. I fear that the nuns are setting up a trap: with all of Quaal locked up in this gilded cage, they only have to destroy the Dark Castle in one last grand battle in order to win the war.

That scenario has entered my thoughts as well, Brother Malicide spoke with graveness. That is why we must rush through this crowning. After you tell your tale at the Grand Gathering, you shall be named queen for being the last living person to possess the Sword of Power before it was lost. As the first monarch of Quaal in three thousand years, your authority shall be the glue that holds this kingdom together. All shall flock to your banner and fight by your side. Perhaps even some nuns who are not too wicked shall come to their senses and abandon Sister Ferriera as the laws of Quaal decree that they should upon naming a new monarch.

Brother Malicide panted. He had never fully regained his strength from his experience with death, and his words had enough wind to blow a children’s sailing toy across a bathtub.

Renee glided to Brother Malicide’s side of the table and kissed him upon his brow. The sun on the horizon settles down upon its earthly bed for the night, and you shall also take some rest. I think I should study the words a few more times before I yield to slumber. I shall only get one opportunity to speak them all correctly, and I cannot fail my kingdom, nor those whom I love.

Brother Malicide was much too weary to argue. Do not stay up too late, my dear daughter. For all you have accomplished, tomorrow shall be one of your greatest tasks in your young life.

Renee smiled. If you could do me a favor, though, and make certain that Lieutenant Lival is safely tucked into our bedchamber? I would hate to lash out against my adopted brothers if I find that they have pulled another prank on him.

Brother Malicide arched an eyebrow. "Our bedchamber? So you are sharing such quarters despite my lectures."

Renee batted her eyelashes, but her cutesy demeanor did not make her adopted father flinch. I am a queen-to-be, and I should have the right to share by bed with whomever I like.

Not until he is wedded as your king. I shall be glad to escort Lieutenant Lival to the bedchamber I designated for him when we first arrived. You should remain in your own, or I shall send guards to make sure you do.

Renee bit her tongue, her eyes fixed upon the book. As you wish, my dear Monk Daddy.

Brother Malicide rolled his eyes upon his adopted daughter’s dramatics. Do not look so forlorn with me, child. We shall settle this matter properly once you are queen and the nuns are defeated once and for all.

Brother Malicide stood, and Renee escorted him to the nearest entryway. They said their goodnight partings before two members of the Dark Guard escorted Brother Malicide away.

Renee returned to the book and re-read the monarch’s oath. Although her heart was glad to be reunited with her monk daddy, Renee wished she still had the freedom to follow her passion as she did when she traveled alone upon her Quest for the Sword of Power.

Renee lit a lamp when the day’s light faded, and she did not leave the library until the inhabitants of the Dark Castle were fast asleep. The green-cloaks who stood watch had changed shifts, and Renee relieved them of library guarding before she departed. They took to their posts along the castle walls, and despite their pleas, Renee would not allow any of them to escort her through the castle.

Hunger tore through Renee, and she made a short stop in the kitchen before she went to her chambers. She ate a light meal of cheese and fruit with only one goblet of wine to wash it down. With the limited supplies being consumed by so many residents, Renee felt it would be unqueenly of her to eat more than anyone else. It did not take much to fill her slender belly, and she slipped out of the kitchen before any passing guards could take notice.

Renee held her lantern aloft as she sashayed down the hallway, the skirt of her dress swooshing with every footfall. She reflected upon how she told Bonder the Wonder that she would never don another frilly dress again once he dressed her in a true Quester’s attire. She nearly laughed at herself for her youthful foolishness—not that having eighteen years of life under her belt made her a wise elder. The hallway was just as opulent as the rest of the Dark Castle, with ten-foot statues of the Dark House lining the way. Renee paid no heed of them… until a shadow sprouted from the base of the Lord Masher Dark’s image and crept across the crimson velour carpet.

Renee whipped out her mighty blade, Megan (formerly K’jillin, Fang of the East). As she stalked toward the source of the shadow, she held her breath as the man’s head produced an image of black, spiky hair. Renee could not slow her breathing and charged around the base of the statue with a mighty Quester’s cry.

No one was there. Renee panted as her eyes darted around, but she was alone in the hallway. She shook her head, and the shadow Renee sworn was there had disappeared. Renee was glad no one was there to witness her hasty act of humiliation. She heard the gossip and knew that somewhere, Guy Smokes wandered amongst the other refugees of the Dark Castle. What Renee did not know was if he would attempt to extract revenge upon her again, as he had through Ayagross. Renee shivered as she recalled that slob of a wizard pouring his love potion down her throat. She knew she deserved some sort of punishment for her treatment of Guy once the Sword of Power was lost, but Renee did not know how far his broken heart would push him, and that frightened her more than any potential threat from Sister Ferriera—the Mother Superior would just slay Renee and be done with it.

Renee made her way to the stairs that led to her bedchambers, but the incident in the hallway had shaken her nerves. She dashed back where she came and traveled through several hallways before she made it to the other side of the castle tower. She knew where her monk daddy had designated Lival’s sleeping chambers. Despite a nagging voice of conscience that told her not to disobey Brother Malicide’s wishes, she made her way to her lover.

Lival’s room was originally made for a servant, but it was no less rich than any other part of the Dark Castle—just a bit smaller. His suit of armor was propped in the corner as a silent guardian that gleamed from the moonlight seeping through billowing curtains. The suit’s metal arms were stretched out, Lival’s clothes draped across them.

Lieutenant Lival lay upon a bed of cotton sheets, his hands folded across his bare pecs, and his turquoise eyes wide open like a living corpse. He wore nothing except for the bracelet of Gonarth that Renee bestowed upon him and knickers of plum-colored silk, but that suited Renee just fine. Certainly her monk daddy would not be able to sense that they were together if the lieutenant was fast asleep.

Renee planted herself next to Lival and ran her fingers through his muddy-colored hair. Vernon may have taken the young lieutenant’s soul, but he could not steal the man’s heart. Upon the heat of Renee’s touch, Lival melted from his frozen state. His eyelids closed, and his muscles loosened into its proper relaxed state of slumber. Renee hugged Lival, resting her nose against his neck. He did not stir from his slumber, but his right arm stretched out and wrapped around Renee’s shoulders, pulling her into him.

Renee was just about to drift into sleep when the wooden door creaked open. Megan was unsheathed before the intruder had time to release a proper yelp. Renee released a wind of relief when a portly member of the Dark Guard raised his palms.

Forgive the intrusion, my lady, the man said, keeping his eyes fixed on Megan. You were not in your chambers, and I guessed correctly that this would be the only other place I would find you.

Renee was glad that the darkness of the night hid her blushing. Perhaps she was a bit too open about her relationship with Lieutenant Lival.

Well, you have found me, Renee hissed. What is it that you want?

We caught a brazen fellow trying to sneak out of the castle. We thought it was a nun at first, but he proved to be a young lad once we removed his cloak. We thought it would be best to tell you of him right away—he could be a spy for those wicked nuns for all we know.

Renee nodded as she sheathed Megan. Take me to him.

The man turned quickly on his heels. Renee hopped out of the bed, and Lival’s fingers wrapped around her wrist. His eyelids only opened a crack wide, but he held her tight despite his sleepiness.

I shall return with all haste, Renee whispered.

She planted a kiss upon Lival’s lips, the stubble of his groomed beard pricking her skin. Renee glided to the door and took another glance upon Lival, who had returned to his stiff pose of slumber.

Renee suppressed her grumbles as she followed the green-cloak. He was quick despite his girth, but perhaps it was the fear of Renee’s temper that gave his feet such speed. Renee twisted her free hand around Megan’s hilt, ready to take vengeance against this captive who would keep her separated from her lover.

She groaned as the green-cloak led her out of the tower to an awaiting carriage—this issue would not be quick to fix.

It took nearly half an hour for the golden carriage to make its way to the main gate. Although smaller than the one that remained wedged between the tree trunks in the Dark Wood, it had the same type of luxurious seats that made Renee fall asleep during the ride. She jostled awake when the cart came to a halt, and she recognized the main gate area where she talked to Guy about the need to slay evil in the name of the Holy Light.

She was led to the top of the guard’s tower, which was made of the same ivory-painted stones as the rest of the castle. The very top, though, seemed unusually bland in comparison to the castle’s ambience. The interior stone walls were not painted to match the ivory hue, and there was no furniture except a simple table made of light wood and an emergency horn used for fast communication mounted upon the wall. There were no bars or drapes upon the open slit that served as a window, and the summer’s evening breeze blew in without restraint.

Renee glanced to her right and held her breath. Tied to a simple wooden chair that matched the desk was the captured man, his arms bound behind his back, a brown rag wound around his mouth. His legs were bound to the legs of the chair, and thusly he could not escape.

Renee’s eyes grew wide when she saw him. Her throat went dry; her blood tingled with fearful apprehension. She wanted nothing more than to turn tail and run.

You seem nervous about this fellow, said a green-cloak. Shall we kill him?

Renee pursed her lips for a few moments before she replied.

Chapter Two

The Art of Avoidance

Guy Smokes and Ivan the Impaler danced in the sparring yard, their feet stirring up the straw laid out to absorb any spilt blood (whether by friendly fighting or not). The blade of Nirondima gleamed in the sunlight; the curved golden sword swung so that the ancient symbols etched along the sides in onyx was a blur. It crashed against Ivan’s blade and, although it was of a lesser lineage and of a simplistic design, the Quester’s skills outmatched the barkeep of Riff Raff Tavern. Ivan fought Guy into a corner, and the younger lad quickened his strikes.

Guy’s cocoa-colored skin glistened with sweat, the pit stains grew in his white shirt. He darted to the left, but the tip of Ivan’s blade caught his blue peacock tights. He gaped at the tear.

Careful with your sword, Guy whimpered. That’s my last pair.

I’m sorry, Ivan panted. I was aiming for your neck.

Guy sheathed Nirondima as a look of