Not QUITE the Classics (6 page)

“I don't know.”

“Will we succeed today?”

“The immediate future is cloudy.”

“What's my favorite color?”

“Blue.”

“Lucky guess.”

“The Oracle has correctly foretold Tyro's favorite color!” Big Brother shouted triumphantly. The rebels cheered.

“That doesn't mean anything!” cried Tyro. He turned back to the Oracle. “How accurate are your feelings? What percentage would you say?”

“That is not important now, young Tyro. You have brought us here. As I have foretold. You have completed the first of your tasks.”

“My
tasks
? Tasks, as in more than one? What are they?”

“What is known to you is known to me, but what is known to me has yet to be known to you,” she croaked.

“So, what you are saying is, you don't know anything.”

Madwyn raised her delicate eyebrows. “Is there something wrong, Tyro? Are you having second thoughts about securing the throne for me?”

“No,” said Tyro quickly. “Just going over my tasks.” He turned to the rebel army and in his best military style shouted, “Let's move out!”

Tyro led the rebel group into the mouth of the tunnel. It had a dank odor (as one would expect from a tunnel), but the phosphorus that lined its walls provided enough light to see by. Tyro was thinking back to the last time he had been here. He'd played in that nook there, had hidden by this cranny here, had stowed his little treasure of bobbins and sticks in that hole way up there. As he looked around he was overcome by a wave of nostalgia. Why do we have to grow up? he wondered. As he followed a smooth, familiar curve in the tunnel, he saw a huge shadow about five hundred feet ahead.

Tyro raised his hand to stop the crowd behind him. He whispered loudly in a rising panic: “I remember why this tunnel isn't used anymore.”

“What is it, friend?” asked Big Brother.

“A Twavverhackle!”

The entire group took a giant involuntary step back. The Twavverhackle was the most fearsome creature in Geologa. The very name would put misbehaving children on the straight and narrow, and frustrated parents invoked its fearsomeness only rarely. It scared them too.

Hundreds of Twavverhackles had roamed the countryside in days gone by, but they had all mysteriously disappeared about twenty years ago. Since they were impossible to kill, it was thought that they had become extinct due to some strange evolutionary weakness. Unfortunately, no one had told the Twavverhackle who was now blocking their path. This one looked extremely lively and appeared to be a prime example of the species. It towered sixty feet high and looked like the offspring of an alligator and a great ape. The only thing worse than its huge jaws was its proclivity for hurling its own feces.

“This is going to be a bit of a problem,” said Big Brother, unsheathing his broadsword.

“You mean the sixty-foot creature that wants to kill us?” said Tyro. “Yes, I fully agree with you.”

Little Brother cut him off. “No time for sarcasm, little one.”

“Oh no, what do
you
want?” Tyro asked as the Oracle approached.

“You will get us past the creature.”

Tyro laughed. “Have I done something to you,
personally
? Why are you so hell-bent on getting me killed?”

“You are wrong, Tyro Tinnywinkle. You will live. You are the key to all success. From the lowly will come all happiness.”

“Lowly?”

“Even the smallest rat has its purpose.”

“That's sweet.”

“Without manure, there can be no—”

“GOT IT!” Tyro yelled. “I think we all have the gist here. I'm lowly and will make all good. Yes, I think that is clear. Here is something else that is clear. There is no way in MARKO'S GREAT CAVERN that I am going back there to face that thing.”

“Of course, Tyro, you are under no obligation. You have done what we have asked of you.” Tyro turned to see that Madwyn had joined the group. “If I am to lead, it is up to me to get us past this.”

Big Brother spoke up. “My Queen, perhaps the original plan of using the wanbucks to—”

“No, Big Brother,” Madwyn said firmly. “Going through the tunnel is our best chance for success.” She turned to a servant. “Get me my broadsword.”

“Wait!” said Tyro. “I'll go.” This surprised everyone, especially Tyro. “Look, if the old crone is right, then I will somehow get us past this without getting killed.” He looked at the Oracle. “Are you absolutely certain about this?”

“Seventy percent certain. Maybe seventy-three.”

Tyro's jaw dropped.
“Seventy-three percent?”

“That is still quite favorable odds.”

“A hundred percent is quite favorable. Seventy percent leaves a lot of room for disaster.”

Big Brother and Little Brother clasped him by the shoulders.

“We shall come with you, friend,” said Big Brother, puffing out his chest.

“May the Fates be kind,” said Little Brother.

Tears sprang into Tyro's eyes. “That is very nice of you. No one has ever looked out for me like this. No.” He snuffled. “I will go by myself and take care of the Twavverhackle.”

The Oracle smiled. “I knew you would.”

Tyro had never wanted to punch someone more. He buttoned up his coat.

“Are you sure this is all you will need?” asked Big Brother.

“I'm not actually sure of anything,” said Tyro, rolling up his sleeves. “Except that our weapons are useless against the Twavverhackle. Perhaps I can scare it off with a flash strip or a very impressive card trick.”

“Good luck to you,” said Little Brother. “May the Harbinger of Death pass you by today!”

“Thanks.” Tyro slowly made his way forward to where the Twavverhackle lay in wait. He had no plan, no weapons, no chance of surviving. Exactly why I hate adventures, he thought bitterly.

He moved farther into the tunnel, staying close to the wall, hoping to blend in with the shadows. He took a glance around the curved wall. There was no sign of the Twavverhackle. Odd, he thought, it's very difficult for a sixty-foot creature to be inconspicuous. Tyro moved even deeper into the tunnel. As he reached a precariously rocky part, the Twavverhackle leapt out, roaring ferociously. It was the most terrifying sound Tyro had ever heard. What happened next happened so quickly that Tyro barely had time to register the events. But register them he did.

Tyro raised his hands to protect himself.

As he raised his hands, he released the two dovelings that were secreted in his coat, two dovelings he had counted during inventory check at the shop the night before.

The dovelings, excited at being freed from the confines of the coat, sang lustily and flew right at the Twavverhackle's beady eyes.

The only thing a Twavverhackle fears, for reasons known only to it, is a doveling. The only thing a Twavverhackle fears more than one doveling is two. Two dovelings were too much to bear for the Twavverhackle, who immediately had a heart attack and died.

Tyro stood over the dead Twavverhackle. “That was easy.” He turned and yelled down the tunnel. “You can all come back now! The creature is dead! I killed it.”

A loud cheer echoed through the tunnel.

Fifteen minutes later, the rebel army was almost at its destination. The constant questioning of the Brothers about the demise of the Twavverhackle made it seem to Tyro as if three times that amount of time had passed.

“Did you jump on its back and twist its neck until it broke?” asked Little Brother as he ran up with Big Brother. “No. Of course, that was my first thought, but, uh, it's not important how I did it. Ah, here we are.” They had reached the end.

The brothers, Tyro, Madwyn, and the Oracle stood at the secret door that led into the ballroom. Tyro stuck a cautious head in. The magnificently opulent ballroom glistened with golden chandeliers, long tables covered with elaborately decorated silver tablecloths, and several life-size statues of Fairdwych.

“There's no one about,” Madwyn whispered to the squadron leaders. “Bring your people in quietly. Brothers, Tyro, you will come with me. You too, Mavellus.” She gestured to the leader of the archers. “Those stairs lead to the level above the Throne Room where the advisers to the monarch and the people's representatives sit. That is, until my brother disbanded them. Three hundred of your archers can easily stand there. We shall surround the King and his guards. Hopefully, they will see the folly in resistance and we can end this without any blood being spilled. May the Gods be with you all.”

Madwyn led the way up the stairs.

Tyro marveled at how three hundred archers could move so quietly up uncarpeted stairs. Five minutes later everyone was in place above the throne of Fairdwych the Despised. Madwyn and Tyro peeked over the banister and glanced at the scene below. One hundred Royal Guards were preparing for what Tyro assumed was the Mystic Crowning. Large orbs were set in the shape of a pentagram, and herbs smoked in pots around the perimeter. A very nervous goat bleated from her place in the center. Fairdwych appeared to be in an impatient mood.

Pointing at the workers with his scepter, he screamed, “Move faster, you square-headed buffoons! The time of the Mystic Crowning is almost upon us! We must be ready. Then the world will be mine!
Mine alone!
”

I really hate that guy, thought Tyro.

Madwyn turned to make sure the archers were in place. They were. She stood up, looking every inch the Queen she was. “Fairdwych! This stops now!”

Startled, Fairdwych looked up. When he saw her, he smiled. “Sister! How lovely to see you. I thought we would never cross paths again. How can I help you?”

“It is I who will help you, Brother. I will help you step down as ruler and live a life away from here, where you can cause no harm.”

Fairdwych smiled again.

A chill ran up Tyro's spine. Something was not right here.

“Sister, tell your archers to put down their weapons.” Tyro saw Madwyn begin to falter.

“Archers…put…down…” She seemed to be having trouble speaking.

“Madwyn! What are you doing?” Tyro saw that the archers seemed to be in the same state as their Queen. They started to lower their bows. What was going on?

“Sister! You can't resist me. You should know that. Put down your weapons and I'll make sure your death is a quick one.”

Tyro started to feel light-headed himself. As if his will was being slowly eroded. He looked closely at the scepter Fairdwych clutched. Of course! On top of it was the Mesmerizing Orb of Thallos! A mystical talisman that his grandfather accidentally sold to King Sardoz. It had the power to make all within its vicinity the pawns of the possessor. Tyro fought its influence. Years of magic shows and dealing with disgruntled hypnotists had given him a slight edge in overcoming the power of the orb, but even so, he knew he would succumb eventually. Quickly, he reached for the nearest archer's bow. He placed an arrow against the taut twine, aimed at the orb, and pulled back.

“You will not win, tyrant!” Tyro loosed his arrow. It sliced through the air and glanced off the backside of the goat, ricocheting off one of the herb pots and fraying the goat's tether. The panicked goat strained against her bond.

“Fool!” Fairdwych shouted. “Why do you try to kill my goat?”

“I'm not trying to kill the— Oh, blast it!”

Tyro grabbed another arrow, took aim, and shot a portrait of the despised King.

“Stop this minute! That was my favorite painting!”

Fairdwych shook his fist at Tyro.

The goat broke free of her rope and did what every living creature that encountered Fairdwych wanted to do. Attacked him
viciously
. The goat butted Fairdwych in the stomach, which caused him to loosen his grip on the scepter. It fell to the ground, shattering the orb into a million pieces.

As though awakening from a deep sleep, Madwyn, the brothers, the archers, and all the King's men came to their senses.

Madwyn was the first to fully regain her wits. “Grab him! Grab the pretender to the throne. As your Queen, I command you!”

As the guards started to surround him, Fairdwych screamed: “I may not be the ruler of Geologa. But neither shall you be, Sister!” With that, he took a knife from his robe and hurled it at Madwyn.

Everyone stood in shock except for Tyro. He jumped in front of Madwyn, and the knife hit him squarely in the chest. The brothers gasped.

Fortunately it was the handle of the knife that hit Tyro. (Fairdwych was not an expert in the art of knife throwing.) Guards grabbed the disgraced and despised King and took him away.

Madwyn hugged Tyro tightly. “You saved my life!”

“No, I saved you from a bruise. Your brother throws like a girl.”

Madwyn picked up the knife and threw it at the coat of arms on the back of the throne, where it lodged itself perfectly.

“He doesn't throw like this girl.”

Madwyn then kissed Tyro passionately. The best, most glorious kiss ever.

When his breath returned, Tyro asked, “Are you allowed to do that? I mean… I'm just a commoner.”

Madwyn smiled. “I can do whatever I want. I'm the Queen.” She kissed him again.

The Oracle smiled too. “I knew that would happen.”

The party spread from inside Castle Hardstock to the capital city of Tarnez below, to the entire continent of Geologa. All were ecstatic at this glorious turn of events and all knew deep within their hearts that this was the beginning of a new golden age.

Big and Little Brother, having consumed a large amount of ale, were in a bit of a melancholy state.

“What do we do now, Big Brother? No more thrones to save, no more tyranny to overcome.”

“There will always be a need for warriors such as us,” said Big Brother reassuringly. “That is the world's curse and it is our gift.” He smiled. “I must say I am impressed with young Tyro. As brave as we, but with none of our skills. Yet he led us to the tunnel, killed a Twavverhackle, and wounded a goat. I'm glad he found it within himself to help the country that gives him his home.”