How to Rescue a Dead Princess

“They are prisoners of the Dark One!” Nichols announced.

“Well, we're on a mission of destruction from King Irving of Rainey, who outranks your Dark One. So bring those people back and let us get to work!”

“We were here first,” said Nichols.

“First doesn't mean anything! Did Sir Frey of Grabien get credit for discovering the Isles of Paradise, just because he was there first? No, it was Sir Ronald of Burgin, who kicked his butt!”

“Wrong!” said Nichols. “Sir Ronald did not kick Sir Frey's butt! Sir Ronald never even made it to the real Isles of Paradise—he actually visited the Sinking Isles, which were already inhabited, and tried to tell everyone he'd found the Isles of Paradise and that he'd taken Sir Frey out in three rounds. The writers of the history books were prejudiced against Sir Frey because he was an albino, which is why we have this distorted view of history now!”

“Attack!” the League of Waldos leader shouted.

“React!” Nichols shouted.

The two groups of warriors rushed towards each other. Randall, now without anyone watching him, began running off after the line of prisoners to save his friends.

Chapter 21

YOU Try Naming These Things

BEING SURE to keep out of sight, Randall followed the prisoners as they were marched across the countryside by the warriors. One of the warriors walked up and down the line, leading them in a chant.

“We are slaves of the Dark One!” he said in rhythm.

“We are slaves of the Dark One!” the prisoners repeated.

“The Dark One is number one!”

“The Dark One is number one!”

It went on like that for hours. Randall kept waiting for an opportunity to perform a daring rescue, but there was never an opening, and he was unable to think of something clever to shout at the warriors just before freeing the prisoners. The best he could come up with was “Hey, you warriors—watch this!” which seemed inadequate.

Then they approached the dark tower, which was dark enough to pose a serious safety hazard. It was at the top of a poorly-lit mountain lacking even guardrails. The prisoners were led up the mountain path, and through a tunnel labeled “Prisoner Entrance: Please Watch Your Head.” Realizing that the tunnel's gate was going to be closed after the last prisoner passed through, Randall waited for the nearby warrior to look away, then hurriedly moved into position directly behind Yvonne, Jack, and Toby.

“Take my hand so they'll think I'm chained to you,” he whispered to Toby, who did so.

The nearby warrior glanced at Randall and did a double-take. “Where did you come from?”

“Not you too!” Randall wailed. “Nobody ever notices me! It's like nobody even knows I exist! I sat behind Raven Goingback for two years in reading class and she never once acknowledged my presence! What's wrong with me? Somebody please say what's wrong with me so I can change!”

“Ah, shut up,” said the warrior. “She was probably just ignoring you.”

They passed through the mouth of the tunnel, and the gates were slammed shut behind them. They continued to march down the winding tunnel, as the chanting warrior added a third verse.

“He's number one, he's number one!” he chanted.

“He's number one, he's number one!” the prisoners repeated.

“I can't believe you risked your life for us!” Yvonne said. “You're a true hero!”

“Well, let's not get carried away,” said Jack. “I'd be willing to call him brave, but to be a hero he needs to actually save somebody.”

“Okay, so he's a martyr,” said Yvonne. “That's almost as good.”

“Depends on how prolonged his death is.”

“I'm not here to be a martyr!” Randall snapped. “Believe me, it won't take much for me to make like a donkey carrier and haul ass!”

“Uh, Randall,” said Jack. “Do me a favor. Next time you feel the urge to say something like ‘make like a donkey carrier and haul ass,’ count to ten first. Slowly.”

“Sorry. I'm just going to play this by ear, okay?”

A fist pounded into Randall's ear, knocking him to the ground and revealing that he wasn't chained. “No talking!” said the warrior. “Hey ... what happened to your chains?”

“The other warrior said that I could leave them off because of my skin condition,” Randall explained.

“What have you got? Leprosy?”

“That's right. Talk about wrecking one's social standing!”

“I have a friend who's working on a cure for leprosy,” said the warrior. “He's going to finish it once he pulls himself together.”

“I think we have a winner for the Comment Most Suitable For Eternal Ignoring,” said Jack.

“Unfortunately,” said the warrior, grabbing Randall by the arm and pulling him to his feet, “I'm going to have to overrule my co-worker on this one.” He snapped a chain around Randall's wrist. “Just don't jiggle your hand around much and it should stay on.”

“Definitely a martyr now,” said Jack.

The prisoners filed into a huge ballroom, where they were seated on uncomfortable stone benches. There were convenient drink holders, but no drinks seemed to be forthcoming. In the front of the room was a stage, the backdrop of which was a giant picture of the Dark One giving the thumbs-up sign and the slogan “The Dark One: If You Had A Choice, He'd Be The Best One.”

After a few anticipatory moments, one of the warriors removed his helmet and walked up onto the stage. “Down in front!” a voice cried out.

“Ooh, a nice crowd tonight,” said the warrior, peering out into the audience. “How many of you are from out of town? Ha-ha, just kidding, all of you are, of course.”

“I'm not,” said one of the prisoners in the second row. “I live two blocks away, but I was in Warfield visiting my mother.”

“And this serves you right for coming to see me so rarely,” said the old woman next to him. “Maybe if you'd stopped by more than once every couple years this wouldn't have happened.”

“Fight! Fight!” shouted another prisoner.

“No fights, please,” said the warrior on the stage. “Allow me to introduce myself. I am Bamberg, your host for this educational and hopefully entertaining evening.”

The prisoners tried to applaud, but there wasn't enough slack on their chains.

“Now, as I'm sure you're all aware, you are prisoners of the Dark One. He'll be joining us a bit later—he has some last minute brooding to take care of. Now, we were going to start this meeting with a singing of the new Hail to the Dark One anthem, but we were unable to get the lyric sheets printed up in time, so I'm going to introduce our first speaker instead.”

“Are we going to be killed?” asked a prisoner in front.

“There will be a question-and-answer session at the end, so please hold off until then. You never know, we may answer your question during the course of the program. Now, please give a warm welcome to Nancy.”

Nancy stepped onto the stage with some signs tucked under her arm. “Thank you, Bamberg. As new prisoners of the Dark One, you will all be expected to follow a number of rules. I know, I know, who needs rules, right? Well, rules have been historically essential in any well-functioning society, and though the Dark One hopes to be a leader to break from tradition, this is one area where he's fairly conservative.”

She set all of the signs down on the stage except one, then glared at one of the prisoners. “What was that?” she asked.

“Nothing,” the prisoner replied.

“You were whispering something to the person next to you. Would you mind sharing it with the rest of us?”

“I'd rather not.”

“Please do. I mean, if there's a conversation going on down there that's more interesting than what I have to say regarding your collective futures, I'm curious to know what it could be.”