Mercy and Monsters - Chapter 9
Mercy and Monsters - Chapter 9
“I? I am Don Quixote, the great!” the old man puffed out his chest. “Quijote?” “No no, Quixote,” Quixote corrected her.
“Our breasts are not so timorous, nor are our arms so weak,
Nor are our veins so bloodless, that we our vow should break,
To sell our freedom for the fear of Prince or Paladin;
At least we’ll sell our birthright dear, – no bloodless prize they’ll win,”
-The March of Bernardo del Carpio
“Right this way, O Wise and Noble Cleric,” al-Hazrad directed Yusuf towards the “troops” he was to be given.
Yusuf raised an eyebrow. “Is this a joke?”
“Oh not at all, most eminent scholar,” al-Hazrad grinned. “After all, did not Mustafa, peace be upon him, start his revolution with but a handful of untrained everymen?”
Yusuf gazed at the group gathered before him, comprised entirely of rioters and mobsters that had been arrested the previous night. Some of them looked confused at their current predicament, others ashamed, and still others irate and upset. Only a handful or so looked both willing and able for the task to which they had been assigned for their agitative actions.
“Perhaps…” Yusuf stroked his beard. “However, they should at least be given some form of military training before we set out, don’t you think?”
“Oh, but my noble and just allamah,” al-Hazrad insisted. “Surely it is within your power to instill these devout souls with the faithful fervor of our ancestral warriors, is it not? After all, so long as they have that, Ar-Rahman should bless their swords and shield their bodies with His grace. And, between you and me, I warrant there might be the makings of another Prophet, peace be upon him, or at least another caliph, within you. After all, have you not been given the task to command the faithful, as it were?”
“Well… I suppose I have,” Yusuf could tell there was something amiss about all this. It was too suspicious for al-Jabbar to have fully changed his mind after only one riot. However, Yusuf did enjoy having his feathers preened, and al-Hazrad seemed to know just how to preen them perfectly. Besides, even if there was a trap being laid for him, Yusuf still had an ace up his sleeve, or rather, his ring. Although, the jinni still had failed to return after the previous night. Could he still be stalking the streets, whispering words of mischief and mayhem?
“Where do we strike first?” Yusuf asked.
“The fort of Bastilla, in three days’ time,” al-Hazrad said. “On the Day of Assembly.”
“That isn’t far from now,” Yusuf muttered.
“No, but,” al-Hazrad whispered wily. “Over the years, I have seeded myself amongst the soldiers under the caliph’s command. There exists a sizable group of men who, when asked, will follow my word, rather than al-Jabbar’s. After you lead your troops to Bastilla, I shall slowly sneak these men out of the city, to follow and give you a surprise advantage.”
“Oh?” Yusuf grinned. “Rather treasonous of you, don’t you think?”
“By whose law?” al-Hazrad smirked. “The caliph’s, or Ar-Rahman’s?”
And as Yusuf and al-Hazrad exchanged sinister snickers, both failed to notice the flash of blue that darted across the rooftops nearby.
From his window, al-Jabbar saw that Yusuf had taken the bait.
“Typical,” the caliph grimaced. “For all his vaunted piety, he sees no wrong in spilling blood on a holy day.”
“Are you sure this is wise, O Commander of the Faithful?” the nearby wazir asked.
“This was your idea, wasn’t it?” al-Jabbar asked.
“Well, yes, but I didn’t intend for al-Hazrad’s role to be filled by… well, al-Hazrad!” the wazir exclaimed. “Surely you’re not deaf to his treacherous ways.”
“Not at all,” al-Jabbar chuckled. “But while al-Hazrad may be many things, he’s never been stupid. If the allamah were to succeed, he would generate a cult of personality. After that, he could surely usurp me, and take the title of caliph for himself. But if al-Hazrad tried to double-cross him after that, he’d soon become the next sacrificial lamb of that cult’s followers. It would be far less trouble for al-Hazrad to take the caliphate from me than from that allamah, and he knows that. That’s why he’ll do everything in his power to ensure that our ‘troops’ fail in their mission, and that Yusuf never returns.”
“But even if Yusuf is killed, al-Hazrad will save the others, won’t he? That was the plan, after all.”
“Maybe,” al-Jabbar shrugged. “But that’s somewhat counter-productive, don’t you think? We can’t feed these fellows the conflict they’ve been craving if we snatch it away before they even get a taste, can we?”
“But, this isn’t a game, this is war!” the wazir cried.
“Yes, I know,” al-Jabbar said. “That’s the point. We’ll be attacking a small fort, so the defenses will be light, as will any casualties we take. Don’t worry, I am not completely without mercy.”
“But… I don’t know…” the wazir muttered. “Doing this to the allamah I’m okay with, but the others…”
“Well, lad, I’m afraid this ultimately isn’t your decision. It’s the ruler who makes the rules, and while it would be wonderfully poetic of me to simply snap my fingers, forgive these malcontents, and have everything go back to the way it was, I can’t. The rioting last night didn’t just happen because of the allamah’s appearance. You heard what was spoken at the meeting yesterday. The people have forgotten how precious their peace and prosperity are, and they yearn for an enemy they can fight. If I simply had Yusuf disappeared, I would only be cutting off the head of a mighty hydra that has taken root in my citizenry. So, rather than the head, I must strike at the heart of this matter.”
“But, weren’t you the one who talked of mercy yesterday?”
“Yes,” al-Jabbar said. “Mercy is a vital part of every ruler’s power, but so is cruelty. It is not enough for a ruler to be either feared or loved. He must be both, or his subjects will not respect him. These people, they burned and looted my city, destroyed families’ homes and livelihoods, and could very easily have taken over the palace. And for what? Some sophomoric idea of superiority. They must be punished, and I must harden my heart to however much it hurts them.”
“That… that’s an awfully callous way to look at the world, Caliph,” the wazir said.
“I know,” al-Jabbar sighed, as he touched the wrinkles that had calloused his face after many years of governance. “But altruistic derring-do is not for rulers, but storybook heroes, and where are they at this moment?”
“Ahhhh-choo!” Morien sneezed suddenly, before wearily wiping his nose.
“Morien,” Hobie chided. “Don’t be so vulgar. At least use a rag or handkerchief, not your sleeve.”
“Ah, shaddup,” Morien moaned as Yann handed him just such a thing. “Yann an’ I’ve been pushing this stupid wagon for hours now.”
“And you’ve been doing a wonderful job,” Julia called from the driver’s seat. “Once Molly’s been fully rested, she’ll be able to take over again.”
“And then we can have food?” Erin’s stomach growled grimly as her eyes glowed with the magic she was using to tug the wagon along.
“Yes, Erin,” Julia said. “Food and rest aplenty.”
“Lon never had to deal with this sort of thing in his stories,” Morien muttered.
“That’s because writers rarely ride horses,” Julia remarked. “Or mules, for that matter.”
“If we keep at this pace, how long do you suppose we’ll take to reach the nearest town?” Hobie asked.
“That’d be… Bastilla, so one… maybe two more days?” Julia estimated. “At the most.”
“Yeah, but if we were going to be attacked by stragglers from last night, it’d have already happened,” Morien griped. “Surely we’re in the clear by now!”
“Morien!”
“What?” Morien sighed. “I’m right, aren’t I?”
“I didn’t say anything,” Julia said.
“Neither did I,” Hobie added.
“Wasn’t me,” Erin grunted.
Yann merely shrugged in confusion.
“Then…?”
Before Morien could finish his question, a brilliant blue comet dashed in front of him and burst into the battered and beaten form of an all-too-familiar jinni.
“Jinni!” Morien cried. “What are you doing here?”
“I had to warn you, Morien,” the jinni whimpered. “He’ll be looking for me soon enough. I had to tell you before he called me back to his side.”
“Oh jinni,” Morien saw how frightened the jinni looked. “What did Yusuf do to you?”
“Doesn’t matter now,” the jinni shivered. “You need to warn Bastilla, Morien. Yusuf’s going to attack them in three days, on the Day of Assembly. It’ll be a slaughter Morien, and all my fault! He’ll use me to kill them all, I just know it! I always loved to fight, but I never went looking for it, and now I’ll be forced to kill everyone! Men, women, even children! It’s terrible, it’s awful. I never meant for things to get so out of hand!”
“Wait, Bastilla?” Hobie flashed. “But that’s…”
“He’s calling me!” the jinni screamed. “He’ll put me back in that ring again! Please Morien, you’ve got to warn them! I don’t want to do it! You have to believe me, I don’t want to-”
And then he was gone, forced back to his master’s side by the terms of their agreement. Morien shuddered as he recalled the image of the jinni, so helpless and hurt, brought so low by years of abuse. But even more pressing was the message the jinni had given him.
“We’d better get moving,” Julia said somberly.
“And fast,” Hobie added.
“You’re right,” Morien muttered, and put his back into pushing the wagon with newfound vigor. He would warn the people of Bastilla. He would stop the invading army of Yusuf. And somehow, Morien swore, he would save the jinni from his master.
Even now, as the kingdoms of Ibery were reduced to mere shells of their former glory, united under the banner of Antile only through their desperation and fear, there still remained cities of history and pride; places filled with noble and true citizens, surrounded by august océans and rolling plains that were so commonplace amongst the Iber scenery. Bastilla was not one of those cities. Every aspect of it was shabby and shoddy. Of all the océans that could surround it, Bastilla’s were the most oppressive and offensive. Of all the plains that could roll through it, Bastilla’s were the dullest and the dustiest. And of all the citizens that could live within it, Bastilla’s were the most ignoble and indigent lot imaginable. Nobody wanted to live in Bastilla. It had been founded many years ago as a military fort, and the only ones who called Bastilla home were those conscripted into service there, either military or nobility, as well as their respective families. Every town in Antile needed a regional hidalgo and his extended staff to run its administrative affairs, but the hidalgo of Bastilla had disappeared long ago to do only Yehovah-knew-what, leaving the running of the city to its military commander, Captain Alfonso de Alvarado, who at that moment was in a heated discussion with Captain Cazador, the visiting naval representative of the Antilian crown.
“I tell you, Captain, there are no hostile Moors in these lands!” Cazador bellowed. With his white beard and thickset frame, some might have mistaken him for St. Nicholas, were it not for his icy blue eyes and authoritative stance.
“But there are! Can’t you see that there are?” Alvarado hissed. With his fiery red hair and impressive mustache, some might have mistaken him for a dandy, were it not for the fierceness and fury he commanded his forces with.
“There have been no reports of any hostile activity from Andalusi forces for miles around!” Cazador cried. “There has been nothing, beyond the usual border skirmishes, that would warrant the mania you have been obviously displaying.”
“Mania? You dare?” Alvarado shrieked. “Don’t you understand? There are thousands of hostile, beastly Moors lurking in those dunes, armed to the teeth and ready to kill us all in our beds! I hear them, their whispers in the wind. I see them, their eyes burning through me as I try to sleep. I smell them, their foul, infidel stench, the stench that threatens to overtake us all! That’s why we’ve got to be prepared. If they are to strike, they will strike here first! But we’ll be ready for them when they come, we’ll kill them before they can ever kill us. And that’s why I can’t have such treasonous ideas spreading amongst my men. I’ve got to weed the weakness out of them, with or without your help.”
“If anyone here has committed treason, it’s you,” Cazador growled. “King Rodrigo has sent you messages time and time again, urging you to cease this reckless vendetta, and he’s becoming just as fed up with you as I am. If you don’t put a stop to this nonsense and follow your king’s orders-”
“Don’t you dare lecture me about the king!” Alvarado cried. “I know you’ve been in talks with that Carolingian king, Charles II. What did he offer you in exchange for your betrayal? A lordship? My lands? That’s what this is all about, isn’t it? Carolina and Andalus are going to carve Antile up like a fat duck, aren’t they?”
“I have been in talks with King Charles,” Cazador growled slowly. “Because his son is to wed King Rodrigo’s daughter.”
“Wh-what?” Alvarado paled.
“In this day and age, the Rahmanite caliphates are stronger, richer, and more united than any Yeshuan kingdom in the land,” Cazador explained. “Our two kings have decided that if an invasion by Rahmanite forces is to occur, our kingdoms would stand better together than apart.”
“To… to mix… us… with those barbaric mongrels…” Alvarado shuddered. “It’s inconceivable!”
“Why?” Cazador asked. “A mighty empire once swept this land, filled with many people of many faiths and many races.”
“Yes,” Alvarado cried. “And it fell after it let barbarians into its gates!”
“The people of Carolina are not barbarians,” Cazador sighed.
“They are!” Alvarado shrieked. “I should have known you wouldn’t understand! You filthy half-breed!”
“Watch your tone, Captain,” Cazador hissed.
“No! I shall not stand by while my people are forced to die out, while our blood is diluted by the blood of lesser races, while those malodorous Moors prepare to strike us down!”
“You’re a madman,” Cazador whispered.
“No! You are a coward!” Alvarado seethed. “And I shall not listen to your bile any longer. Guards! Take him away!”
And with that, a group of guards entered the room, and escorted the protesting Cazador off the premises.
“Clean it all, it must be cleaned. Clean it all, it must be cleaned. Clean it all, it must be cleaned!” Alvarado whispered when once more he sat alone at his commander’s desk.
“There!” Julia cried elatedly, as she spotted the fort in the distance.
“Hnh?” Morien peeped his head out of the wagon groggily.
“We made it, Morien,” Julia grinned. “You just go back to sleep until we get into town, okay?”
“Okay…” Morien made his way back inside, before suddenly realizing. “Wait, you haven’t gotten any sleep either.”
“Don’t worry about me,” Julia yawned. “I can manage till we at least reach Bastilla.”
“Are… you sure? I could always take over.”
“Nonsense! You need your strength, to do all that silly hero stuff, remember?” Julia chuckled. “I’ll be fine, honest.”
“…Alright,” Morien muttered. “But if you need anything, just let me know.”
“Sure thing.”
“Oh, and Julia?”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you. Really.”
“Ah, go back to bed, willya?” Julia chuckled.
Soon afterwards, the weary little wagon at last arrived at the gates of Bastilla. However, as Julia looked around, she noticed the marked absence of any border guard. With the gates shut though, how else was she to get in?
“Hello?” Julia called out. “Anybody home?”
“Who’s there?” a frightened voice squeaked from where the border guard would have normally sat. But Julia saw no guard in the seat, so where was the voice coming from? Peering into the guard station, Julia saw a shivering figure cowering beneath his seat.
“Uh… are you the guard?”
“Y-yes,” the guard whimpered.
“Well… may I be allowed to enter?” Julia asked. “I’ve got a very important message for your commander, and time is of the essence.”
“Are you an arsonist?”
“What?”
“An arsonist? You are one, aren’t you?”
“No… Look, I have all my documentation here, so if you could just let me in…”
“If I let you in you’ll try to arson the place.”
“I will not!” Julia shook her papers at the guard. “Look! This is all the paperwork proving I’m a merchant! And I’ve really got to speak with your commander!”
“Don’t shout at me, please!” the guard burst into tears. “I can’t bear to have people shouting at me!”
“Then why’d you join the army?”
“I didn’t. I was conscripted,” the guard sobbed.
“That’s real tough,” Julia sighed. “Really, it is. Tell you what, if you let me in I’ll be more than happy to listen to all your problems at a later time, but for now I really, really, really need to get in!”
“Y-you really aren’t an arsonist?”
“NO!” Julia screamed.
“Stop shouting at me!” the guard cried.
“Great! Sarding! Yehovah!” Julia fumed.
“What was that?” an elderly man on horseback entered the conversation.
“Wha- Who are you?” Julia could only stare flabbergastedly at the strange individual who had ridden up beside her. From a distance, he might have seemed a mighty hero, some chivalric knight of olden days. Up close though, it was obvious his crown was really a barber’s bowl, his armor was old and rusty, and his frame was thin and gaunt. This was to say nothing of his “steed”, which looked even more decrepit and worn-out than the old man, and who was in the midst of making goo-goo eyes at Molly, who flatly rejected his advances.
“I? I am Don Quixote, the great!” the old man puffed out his chest.
“Quijote?”
“No no, Quixote,” Quixote corrected her. “And unless mine eyes deceiveth me, thou hast befallen a most terrible fate! Hark, vagrant! Canst thou not see this noble and fine lady requires court with thine Captain! If thou shalt not permiteth her passage, thou shalt taste the sting of mine blade!”
“Huh?” Julia gawped.
“Okay, okay,” the guard whimpered his way to the winch. “I’ll let her in.”
“Huzzah!” Quixote cried as the gates were opened. “Victory is ours! Now, forthwith, let us maketh haste posthaste and delivereth thine most important message to the captain! Rocinante, away!”
With a feeble cough, Quixote’s horse trotted teeteringly into town, as Julia merely stared blankly into space.
“What… just happened?” Julia gibbered.
Morien woke up to the sound of chatter outside. Looking around, he saw Erin was completely tuckered out, while Yann rested peacefully and even Hobie had dimmed considerably to conserve his energy. Evidently, Morien was the first to wake up, and he made his way out of the wagon to see what the conversation outside was all about.
“Oh thank Yehovah you’re awake!” Julia cried when she saw Morien.
“Wh-why?” Morien glanced at the man riding beside them, chatting away a storm.
“And thusly, I sleweth the mighty dragon in one fell swoop!” Quixote boasted. “Its steely hide being no match for my razor-sharp blade!”
“Razor-sharp?” Julia groaned. “So let me get this straight. You slew a dragon, bisected the fully-helmeted skull of a giant, tore your way through a giant spider’s silk, even cut through a diamond door! And yet somehow your blade still remained razor-sharp after all that?”
“Er… well,” Quixote stammered. “Mayhaps I hit the diamond door on a cleavage plain…”
“Oh, well that just makes everything make perfect sense then, doesn’t it!?!” Julia moaned.
“Um… who is this guy?” Morien asked.
“I? I am Don Quixote, the strong!”
“Quichote?”
“No no, Quixote,” Quixote corrected him. “I traveleth the world, righting wrongs and smiting evils, as did the great Orlando so many years ago.”
“Orlando?” Morien grinned. “I love Orlando!”
“Dost thou speaketh true?” Quixote cried. “Why, ’tis the same for me! Though, betweeneth the two of us, Bernardo del Carpio shall always be mine favorite. Truly, he was the greatest of all the Valiants!”
“No way!” Morien protested. “Lon the Lionheart was! I mean, he went to the moon, for heaven’s sake!”
“The moon? Ha!” Quixote laughed. “Bernardo was the only one to ever defeat Orlando’s enchantments!”
“Only because he strangled him!” Morien cried. “Hardly befitting a hero of chivalry.”
“Verily I must object!” Quixote boomed. “For thou see-”
“WILL YOU BOTH SHUT UP!?!” Julia screamed. Evidently the lack of sleep, compounded by Quixote’s constant conversation, had made her quite perturbed.
“Er… s-sorry,” Morien mumbled.
“Y-yes,” Quixote coughed. “’Tis best not to disturbeth a woman on the verge of a nervous breakdown. So… er… mighteth I ask what this important message for Captain Alvarado is?”
“There’s going to be an attack from Andalus, this Friday,” Morien explained.
“Friday? Why that day be nearly upon us now!” Quixote cried. “Forsooth! But, nay, surely our forces are mighty enough to withstandeth such an invasion, are they not?”
“Maybe if their leader didn’t have a magic jinni on their side,” Morien sighed.
“Genie?” Quixote furrowed his brow.
“Something like that,” Morien moaned. “With him being forced to follow their orders, it’ll be a massacre.”
“I see,” Quixote muttered. “Perhaps… there exists a legend, from long ago and far away, wherein a lionhearted hero tooketh a mighty key to awakeneth a giant of stone and bronze, and sleweth a mighty dragon that once lived within these lands. They say the remains of this giant doth lie just south of here, in fact. And I myself even knoweth the way there. Why, surely, if we had that giant stand with us in battle, even a genie could be defeated!”
“Wait, did you say key?” Morien gasped. “Julia! Did you-”
“No, no, no, no!” Julia hissed. “We are not going on a fool’s errand on the word of some obviously crazy guy! He’s crazy! Listen to him.”
“I beeth right here, you know.”
“And besides, I’ve heard that story a million times before. It’s classic military propaganda, like every other story of ‘chivalry’ out there,” Julia grumbled. “We haven’t got time to waste on that. We need to let the commander here know about the invasion so we can evacuate everyone and get word to the king to mount his forces. There’s no way we can defeat a genie without an army behind us.”
“I… I suppose you’re right,” Morien sighed. A giant saving the day sounded nice, but at that moment, the important thing was getting everyone to safety.
“Be not so glum, mine friend,” Quixote said. “Your lady friend speaks cynically, but truthfully as well.”
“Thank you,” Julia smiled. “Now, where did you say we could find this Alvarado guy again?”
“Why, right here! At his command center,” Quixote pointed to the building in front of which they had just stopped. It looked just as run-down and beat-up as everything else in Bastilla, but it bore the banners of the Antilian military, so it probably housed at least someone in a commanding position inside.
“Well! What a stroke of luck!” Julia grinned. “In that case, why don’t you come in with us? I’m sure Alvarado’ll be more willing to listen to us with you by our side.”
“Er… though the offer is good, I must declineth,” Quixote nervously sputtered. “Verily, the captain and I do not… well, it would be best for the two of thou to go on thineselves. My apologies, but it beeth a long story.”
“Well, maybe you can tell us some other time,” Julia leapt off the wagon. “In the meantime, why don’t you look after my wagon? If a bard, a witch, or a flying orb come out, just tell them where we went. Morien, come on.”
“Right,” Morien followed closely behind Julia as they made their way inside.
“Oh dear,” Quixote muttered to himself. “I only hope the captain listens.”
“Yes?” Alvarado asked the guard who had just entered his room.
“Sir! There are some visitors here that have news of a reported Andalusi invasion. Sir!”
“What?” Alvarado’s eyes lit up with the passion of twin suns. “Why, send them in! Immediately, do you hear?”
“Yes sir!” the guard exited before hastily re-entering with Morien and Julia in tow.
“Ah, yes, yes, do sit down, yes,” Alvarado giggled. “I trust your journey here was a pleasant one?”
“Hardly,” Julia griped. “Look, Captain, we know you probably don’t have much reason to trust us, but there’s going to be an invasion from Qurtana arriving this Friday, and-”
“Yes, yes, I knew it!” Alvarado shrieked. “I knew it and that old fool tried to trick me but I got him good I got him good indeed! You’ve done a tremendous service to us, my dear, truly you have! Once the battle is over and we crush the infidels, I shall lavish you with whatever you desire!”
“Actually, that’s the thing, sir,” Morien said. “There’s no way you can win this fight. That’s why we-”
“Hold your tongue, Mustafan!” Alvarado howled. “Young lady! Just where does this blackamoor slave get off talking back?”
“Slave?” Morien cried. “What the-”
“Morien is not my slave, Captain, he is my trusted friend and companion,” Julia hissed.
“Oh… really?” Alvarado blinked in surprise, before turning to Morien. “And… you un-der-stand me when I am tal-king to you?”
“Yes, confound it all, I do!” Morien growled. “And I’m telling you, the invading forces have a jinni on their side! A jinni! Do you un-der-stand me when I say that?”
“Genie?” Alvarado furrowed his brow.
“Oh, for Ar-Rahman’s sake,” Morien groaned.
“Ah, I see,” Alvarado smiled. “A simple creature, he must still believe in fairy tales and tom-tom poundings. Still, do not wor-ry, Soud, we are strong men, and we no fear an-y Rah-ma-nite tricks.”
“I can assure you, Captain, this genie is real,” Julia tried her best to remain calm. “I was attacked by him myself, and no matter how strong your men are, they’re no match for him.”
“Ha! You think I fear infidel sorcery?” Alvarado laughed. “We are Antilian! Chosen by Yehovah himself to uphold law and order amongst the other savage peoples of the world! We fear no man, or creature of chaos, and the blood of those Moorish beasts shall be tasted by our blades before the day is through!”
“What are you talking about?” Morien bellowed. “Haven’t you been listening to a word we’ve said? There’s no way you can win against this jinni! You have to evacuate everybody.”
“Evacuate? When our hour of victory is at hand? Never!” Alvarado screeched. “I shall not tolerate such mutinous mutterings any longer! Guards! Lock these two in the dungeon!”
“What?” Julia yelled as she was carried away. “You’re completely off your rocker, old man!”
“You’ll kill everyone here if you stay!” Morien howled as he was dragged out.
“Yes, yes, clean it all, it must be cleaned,” Alvarado whispered to himself, his eyes bulging with glee as he stood alone once more.
“Captain on deck!” First Mate Usuff saluted as Captain Cazador walked on board his vessel the Argo, a motion that was swiftly repeated by all the other crew members present.
“At ease,” Cazador sighed.
“Sir!” Usuff asked. “How did the talks with Captain Alvarado go?”
“Worse than any possible imagining,” Cazador replied. “We must set sail at once to let the king know his captain’s gone completely insane.”
“Not so fast!” a platoon of Bastillan troops surrounded the ship. “Captain Cazador, of the Royal Antilian Navy, we hereby place you and all your crew under arrest for feeding our captain with false information in an attempt at treason!”
“What?” Cazador bellowed. “What is this?”
“We have just received word that an invasion of Bastilla is scheduled for this Friday.”
“I keep telling you, there is no invasion!” Cazador cried.
But the platoon was deaf to Cazador’s pleas, and soon, the sea captain’s entire ship had been boarded, with his men led off to the dungeons.
“Hey Vicks, what’s this cart doing out here?” a soldier motioned his friend’s attention towards a wagon with a mule hitched to it and an old horse beside it. No other humans appeared to be in sight, but the horse and mule seemed to be in the midst of nuzzling.
“Beats me, Steve,” Vicks grunted.
“I keep telling you, my name is Esteve,” Esteve stressed. “Esteve! With an E!”
“Yeah okay, Stevo,” Vicks grunted.
“Esteve! My name is Esteve!” Esteve squawked.
“So what should we do with it? Cap’n Amarillo prolly wants us t’move it.”
“His name’s Alvarado.”
“Okay Tapani.”
“How… how did you even get that out of Esteve? It sounds nothing like my name!”
“So we move it then?”
“What? No!”
“Why not?”
“Are you crazy?” Esteve motioned towards the nuzzling equines. “I may be willing to commit many despicable and deplorable acts in service of my commanding officer, but disturbing two ungulates in the midst of a lover’s courtship? That’s going too far.”
“What’s an ungulate?”
“Come on Vicks!” Esteve began to walk away. “We’ll have to arrest these unattended animals after they’re finished.”
“Sure thing, Shtjefni.”
“I told you my-!” Esteve sighed. “Never mind.”
As the two soldiers walked away, Molly pried the lovesick Rocinante away. The ruse had been necessary to keep the soldiers at bay, but, as Molly reminded the heartbroken horse, in the end it had been nothing more than a ruse.
“Well this is a fine mess,” Julia grumbled after she and Morien were tossed into their cell.
“You idiots!” Morien screamed. “At least get the women and children out of here! They’re not soldiers, they don’t deserve to die because of your captain’s madness!”
“They’re not listening,” Julia sat on the cell’s bed.
“What are you doing?” Morien cried. “That crazy captain is going to get everyone here killed! We need to get out of here.”
“Yes, we do,” Julia said. “And to show how serious I am about getting out of here, I’m going to propose a perfect plan of escape: we wait until Erin wakes up and she uses her magic to jimmy us away. There, it’s foolproof. Until then, I’m going to get the first bit of sleep I’ve gotten in a long while. Good night.”
“You-!” Morien felt the need to protest as Julia rolled over to take her nap, but after much sputtering and spouting, he realized she was right. It was useless trying to reason with the guards, otherwise they wouldn’t have been imprisoned in the first place. And if anyone could get them out forcefully, it would be the Spectral Sorceress that traveled with them. It wasn’t as though Morien had any magic sword that could cut through bars. Come to think of it, the only weapons he possessed were still his wooden training sword and that phony hilt Julia had sold him. Morien was surprised when he realized he still possessed the latter weapon. He really should have tossed that away already, and yet somehow it remained in his possession. Morien made a mental note then to pitch the hilt as soon as he got a chance. If he got the chance, that was. There was still the matter of saving everyone. Morien had to think of a plan to get everyone out, and to save the jinni from his servitude. But how? How? Morien wracked his brains and clutched his saphie for inspiration, trying to think of a plan. But in the end, nothing came to him.
“Er… hello? Miss Witch? Miss Witch?” Quixote shook the sleeping Erin from within Julia’s wagon. After hearing the sounds of distress and disaster from within the command center, and seeing Julia and Morien dragged outside, Quixote had done the only sensible thing he could in the situation, that being running away and hiding in the wagon.
“Merely a tactical retreat!” Quixote protested. “Verily, I simply decided that mine forces would be aided by the presence of a powerful witch, whom the fair lady Julia told me about earlier, whenceforth I should mounteth a rescue!”
“Huh?” Erin woke up groggily. “Who’re you? An’ who’re you talking to?”
“Ah! The latter question beeth of no import,” Quixote said. “And I am Don Quixote, the brave!”
“Quizote?”
“No no, Quixote,” Quixote corrected her. “And quickly, thou must rouse thyself from thine slumber! Thine friends are in mortal peril!”
“What’s going on?” Hobie flickered awake. “And who’s this?”
“I am Don Quixote, the puissant!” Quixote cried.
“Er… pissant?”
“No no, Quixote,” Quixote corrected him, then as Yann came to, again, “Quixote! Do you hear me? Mine name beeth Don Quixote!”
Yann looked around confusedly, for he had not said anything to warrant such a response.
“Ah! F-forgiveth me, mine friend,” Quixote blushed. “I merely… look! None of this beeth of import! Thine friends, we must mounteth a rescue of them immediately!”
“Why?” Erin asked concernedly. “What happened to them?”
“Ah, it beeth a long story, mine fair lady,” Quixote sighed. “But forsooth! Your friends have been takeneth captive by the treacherous captain who commandeth this bastion! They must have been takeneth to the local jail!”
“Why is he talking like that?” Hobie asked, to which Yann merely gave a shrug.
“Jail? But why?” Erin inquired.
“Ah, this beeth all mine fault,” Quixote moaned. “I should have beeneth amongst them, whence they delivered their message to the captain. He must have interpretedeth their pleas for evacuation as pacifistic mutiny, and mutiny he will not abide. Indeed, I fear that, should we not interveneth, the captain may even put thine friends to death.”
“Death?” Erin’s eyes lit up incensedly.
“Yes,” Quixote sobbed. “Indeed I-”
Before he could finish, an explosion of green erupted from the wagon, with Erin, Yann, Hobie, and the utterly bewildered Quixote along for the ride. Everything that was green and had once been in the wagon now rolled across the town like a massive tsunami, propelled by Erin’s righteous fury.
“Well, it seems you got Erin’s attention,” Hobie remarked.
Yann gave Quixote a congratulatory thumbs-up for his contribution.
“I… great Yehovah,” Quixote gulped.
Suddenly, there was a clatter of noise coming from the jailhouse entrance. Making his way to the bars, Morien peered outside to see the source of the sound. It was a group of men, naval officers it looked like, being dragged into the prison and divided into several cells. They took little notice of Morien or the sleeping Julia, instead focusing on shouting at the guards, then on silently fuming after they had left.
“Uh… hi,” Morien peeped, drawing the gaze of every irate sailor in their cells. Morien wondered then if he had made a mistake to draw attention to himself.
“Who said that?” a baritone growl called out from the cell next to Morien’s. Obviously the sailor there couldn’t see Morien, and try as he might, Morien was unable to position his head in a manner that would allow his seeing the source of the voice. Still, one didn’t need to see to talk.
“Um, my name’s Morien,” Morien said. “I’m from the Songhay Empire and-”
“Songhay?” one sailor gawped. “What are you doing in Antile?”
“How do you speak Antilian?” another asked.
“Well, uh-”
“Enough. It hardly matters,” the baritone growl growled once more. “Young man, continue.”
“Uh, y-yes sir,” Morien said. “My friends and I came here to warn the captain about the invasion that’s coming.”
“WHAT?” the baritone boom caused Morien to shiver in fright.
“So you’re the reason we’re in here!” a sailor howled.
“Your lies got us in here, you sarding Songhay!” another shouted.
“Lies?” Morien cried. “I… wait, no, there really is an invasion going on! In three, well, two, er, on Friday! This Friday! An insane allamah named Yusuf is leading an invasion on Bastilla, and he’s got a jinni in his command. We’ve got to get everyone out of here!”
The sailors exchanged worried glances and distrustful whispers, before finally the baritone voice spoke once more.
“How do you know all this?”
“Because… it’s kind of a long story,” Morien sighed. “I know it’s a bit hard to swallow, but we need to evacuate this city. You have a ship, right?”
“Yes,” the baritone voice said slowly. “Though I doubt we could fit the entire Bastillan garrison in it.”
“Then… at least the women and children?”
“…Perhaps.”
“Captain, you don’t seriously believe this, do you?” a sailor cried.
“I do,” the baritone growl stood steadfast. “If this Morien was one of Alvarado’s yes-men, he wouldn’t be in prison, would he?”
“Technically it’s jail, Captain,” one sailor muttered, before a chorus of shushes silenced him.
“Regardless,” the sea captain continued. “Even if this invasion doesn’t exist, Alvarado is obviously a madman. We can fit all the women and children here in our boat and drop them off at the nearest town, before going to King Rodrigo and alerting him to the situation here. We have nothing to lose from trusting this lad and everything to gain, men. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Captain,” the men said, before an explosion tossed the door to the prison clear across the room, and a tidal wave of green flooded inside.
“Morien! Julia!” Erin leapt into the room and assessed the situation. When she at last noticed her two companions and that they were safe, albeit imprisoned, her eyes brimmed with tears as she rushed over to Morien and hugged him happily through the bars. This brought an uproarious applause from the sailors, save for one who remarked “It is of my opinion that if Yehovah had wanted the races of the world to mingle in romance, He would not have placed them on separate continents” before a chorus of shushes silenced him.
“I was so worried! That man said you were… or that you might have been… or at least you would be… I’m so glad you’re okay!” Erin beamed joyfully at Morien, and the young man felt a strange flutter from within his chest.
“Uh… what man?” Morien asked.
“H-hello,” a wearied Don Quixote waved hello as he rested on the pile of green that now lay on the floor. A smiling Yann and as-always-inexpressive Hobie waved and glowed their greetings from beside him.
“Quixote!” Morien grinned. “I should have guessed. Just another day of adventure for you, huh?”
“Er… y-yes, quite,” Quixote coughed.
“Come on, let’s get you out of here,” Erin chanted and sneezed before the enchanted green tore open the bars of the jail cells.
“You there, young woman,” Captain Cazador came over to Erin.
“Huh?” Erin asked. “What?”
“I could use your talents to help with the evacuation,” Cazador said. “Before Alvarado can stop us, we must load all the women and children of Bastilla aboard our vessel and take them to safety.”
“What about the men?” Erin inquired.
“They won’t fit,” Morien explained. “More than that though, the captain here won’t let any of his soldiers leave. He’s determined to fight to the death.”
Wait, Yann pointed at Cazador inquisitively, that captain there?
“No, the captain in charge of Bastilla,” Morien clarified.
“But then what are we to do with the men?” Hobie asked. “Surely we can’t leave them behind?”
“I… I have an idea for that,” Morien said. “It’s risky, and it might be all for nothing, but Quixote here mentioned a giant of stone and bronze to the south of here, powered by a mystic key.”
“A key?” Hobie flickered. “Interesting terminology.”
“Er… w-well, mayhaps I might have… exaggerated the claim,” Quixote gulped. “In truth, this giant may beeth a mere myth.”
“Maybe, but what other option do we have?” Morien asked. “The sea captain here will warn King Rodrigo, but who knows how long it’ll take for him to mount his defenses? Those troops aren’t going to last against a jinni, but a giant might even the odds.”
“So where does that leave us?” Cazador asked.
“I can help evacuate everyone, provided there’s food in the bargain,” Erin’s stomach began to rumble. “I burned a lot of calories from this.”
“Very well, thank you,” Cazador said. “And I’ve something special in mind for this fellow.”
Yann blinked in surprise as he noticed Cazador had placed his hand on his shoulder.
“You’re a tall, strong bard,” Cazador grinned. “I could use you for what I have in mind next.”
Yann opened his mouth to protest, but no words managed to come out before Cazador interrupted him.
“I’m sure you’ve already got a lot of experience under your belt,” Cazador chuckled. “Maybe after all this is done I’ll even ask you to join my crew.”
Yann tried to object, but Cazador was deaf to his pleas.
“If that’s alright with you all, of course,” Cazador looked back at Morien, Erin, and Hobie.
Yann gazed pleadingly at his traveling companions, his eyes begging for help.
“We’ll let you use him for now,” Hobie chuckled. “But as for allowing him to join your crew, that’s ultimately his own decision.”
“Haha! Of course,” Cazador laughed as Yann sighed miserably.
“Okay, so Yann and I’ll help the sea captain,” Erin said. “What about the rest of you?”
“Hobie, if this fabled key is the Key of Land, you’ll need to be there to confirm it,” Morien said. “And Quixote, you’re the only one who knows where the giant is, so you’ll need to come along too. And Julia has the wagon, so we’ll need her.”
“W-well…” Quixote gulped.
“Julia?” Cazador furrowed his brow.
“What about you?” Erin inquired. “You can help us evacuate.”
“N-no,” Morien mumbled as his hand instinctively went to the saphie on his chest. “I know, I could help you, but I have to be there with the giant. It’s… it would take too long to explain.”
Erin stared at Morien for a long time, before finally saying “Alright.”
“R-really?” Morien was surprised.
“I trust you,” Erin said.
“I…”
“Well, that was a nice nap,” Julia yawned as she woke up and looked around.
“Julia!” Erin rushed over to her friend’s side.
“Hey Erin,” Julia grinned. “See Morien? What’d I tell you? Anyways, Erin, some stuff went down and we need to do some planning.”
“I know,” Erin laughed. “We already did all that with Quixote and the sea captain.”
“Sea captain?” Julia furrowed her brow, before noticing Captain Cazador. Instantly, her face became stone at the sight of him.
“Hello, Julia,” Cazador sighed.
“Captain,” Julia grunted.
“Uh…” Erin looked around. “Do you two know each other?”
“So, are we going to do anything about that wave of green that came by?” one soldier asked another as they stood guard at the jail.
“What?” the other soldier asked.
“That big wave. You know, that blew through the building. It seemed kind of important.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t know what you’re talking about. I have Deuteranopia.”
“What? That… look, just because you have Red-Green Color Blindness that doesn’t mean you flat-out can’t see green. Surely you saw a gray blur come through here.”
“But I see everything twice too.”
“Wh-what? What does that even mean?”
“What does what mean?”
“You see everything twice but you have Deuteranopia? What kind of nonsense is that?”
“At least I don’t have screaming nightmares of cats sleeping on my face.”
“That-!” the soldier sighed. “Look, are we going to investigate that wave or not?”
“Well-”
Before the other soldier could answer though, a horde of angry sailors charged through the street, followed by a flying carpet housing what appeared to be a witch, a sea captain, and a very bemused bard strumming his lute.
“Great Yehovah!” the ailurophobic soldier cried. “Surely you see that, don’t you?”
“See what?” the deuteranopic soldier furrowed his brow.
“Yes, yes, yes! It’s all so wonderfully delicious!” Alvarado cackled as he gazed at his map board, the series of scribbles on which were incomprehensible to all but him. Evidently what Alvarado saw pleased him though, as he began to sing and dance joyfully, confident in his imminent victory against the Andalusi forces.
As the captain was in the midst of his ditty though, a sight just outside the window caused his blood to run cold. There, floating on a flying carpet, was Captain Cazador, along with two other figures Alvarado did not recognize. Running over and tearing open the window to make sure it wasn’t an illusion, Alvarado could only gawk and gibber at the sight of Cazador’s triumphant grin.
“Well, well,” Cazador cackled. “Not so high and mighty now, are you, Alvarado? If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were scared.”
“Scared?” Alvarado shuddered. “I know no fear, you fool! You… I knew it! A flying carpet, you’re in league with the Moors! But I’ll stop you! By heaven, I’ll put an end to you and all your evil!”
“Big talk, little man,” Cazador smirked. “But you couldn’t even put me in prison for long. What makes you think you’ll even be able to catch me?”
“You… you…” Alvarado squawked.
“Ta-ta, ‘Captain’,” Cazador waved goodbye as the carpet flew away. As it slowly faded into the distance, Alvarado heard the bard singing a tune directed at him.
“Hello Captain Alvarado
Silly like an armadillo
Frightened like a weeping widow
Catch us if you can or dare-oh”
It was too much. It was all too much! Alvarado would not stand for this insolence!
“Guards! Guards!” Alvarado burst out of his room. “Gather every man we have, every last one of them! We’re going to kill that half-breed captain if it’s the last thing we do!”
“Pardon me, young fellow,” Usuff asked the young boy who had answered the door. “But are any of your relatives home at the moment?”
“Are you a pirate?” the boy asked.
“What?”
“A pirate? Are you one?”
“I don’t-”
“I’m an orphan.”
“Oh. I’m… terribly sorry. But surely you can’t be living here all alone, can y-”
“I know how this works. You’re a pirate here to kidnap me, but you can’t, because pirates can’t kidnap orphans, and I’m an orphan, so you-”
“José, what’s going on out there?” a middle-aged woman came out to the foyer.
“Mama!” the boy whined. “Are you trying to get me kidnapped? This man’s a pirate!”
“Well, actually-”
“A pirate?” the woman’s eyes lit up. “I… I hear you often take women hostage, to do… unspeakable things to. Is this true?”
“Look I’m not even a-”
“W-well,” the woman blushed. “I s-suppose if that is to be my fate, I shan’t put up a fight.”
“Mama!” José cried. “You sound almost like you want to be taken away by a pirate!”
“W-why nonsense, José,” the woman stammered. “I merely-”
“Rubí! You silly girl, what are you doing, gabbing out here in the foyer?” an elderly woman entered the conversation.
“Mama!” the woman cried. “Go back to bed!”
“Shut up,” the granny grunted, then to Usuff, “You there, Mister Pirate, think you’re so tough, do you?”
“Heaven help me,” Usuff sighed.
“Well I tell you now, if you try to kidnap any of my family, I’ll cut off your long john silver with a carving knife! I mean it.”
“Yeah!” José cheered. “You tell him, granny!”
“Don’t listen to her, Mister Pirate!” Rubí pleaded. “She doesn’t mean a word of it!”
“Yes I do, you stupid girl. Shut up!”
“No, you shut up, mama! I’m tired of this life! I want to be a pirate’s wife!”
“What about me?” José asked.
“You can come with me, as can mama, provided she behaves herself,” Rubí insisted.
“Look!” Usuff shouted. “I’m rather in a bit of a hurry here, so if we could just move this along-”
“Don’t talk back to me, young man!” the granny hissed.
“So hungry…” Erin moaned.
“I’m sorry, but can’t you hold out just a bit longer?” Cazador implored. “We need to buy as much time as possible.”
From behind the carpet they flew on, a growing horde of Bastillan soldiers chased after Erin, Cazador, and Yann, with Captain Alvarado leading the charge on his horse.
“I… unh…” Erin mumbled, before a cart of cabbages caught her eye, and with a chant and a sneeze, the contents of the cart flew across the air to plop inside her lap. Immediately she began to tear into the food like a starving wolf, her face twisted by hunger and desperation.
“Great Heavens!” Cazador cried. “What are you-”
His protests were cut short though, by a hand on his shoulder. As Cazador turned to look at Yann, he saw the bard glaring dangerously back at him.
“I… I see,” Cazador coughed. “My apologies, young lady.”
“It’s cooold!” Erin sobbed. “The food’s cold and dry! I want meat!”
“I’m sorry, but-” before Cazador could finish, Yann had leapt off the carpet and onto the street.
“What the- Get back here!” Cazador cried. “Are you trying to get yourself killed?”
“There! Quickly men, get the bard!” Alvarado screeched as Yann dashed into a nearby butcher’s.
As Yann shut the door behind him, the soldiers slammed into the store, their momentum and mass all focused onto that one door. Alvarado screamed for his men to back away, as he and his horse were crushed against the shop, but as several men managed to break in through the windows, the crowd eventually dispersed and flowed into the butcher’s, breaking tables and smashing storage bins. Alvarado cackled triumphantly as he himself broke through the door and entered the shop. They had the poor bard trapped like a rat.
“Yann!” Erin exclaimed, and quickly turned the carpet around.
“What are you doing?” Cazador cried. “Your idiot friend is as good as dead! You’ll only get us both killed!”
“Shut up you, shut up,” Erin whimpered, as she set the carpet down on the butcher’s roof and limped towards the door that led to the shop beneath.
“Get a hold of yourself woman! There’s nothing we can do!” Cazador grabbed Erin and dragged her back towards the carpet.
“No! Let me go!” Erin tried to fight back, but was simply too weak.
“Yann is dead! Do you hear me? He’s dead!”
Well that was a shame, Yann shrugged, though he could have sworn he was still fit as a fiddle.
“What the-” Cazador gasped. “How are you still alive?”
“Yann!” Erin burst into tears of joy at the sight of her friend, and not simply because he was covered from head to toe with meat. With sausages wrapped around his arms, porkchops stacked on his head, and a pot of acorn-fed jamón resting in his hands, he was quite the sight to see. But more importantly, he was still alive.
“You fool!” Cazador bellowed. “What were you thinking back there?”
In response, Yann simply walked over to Erin and tenderly fed her some sausage, which she wolfed down hungrily.
“Sir! There’s a door leading to the roof!” a cry from below caught the trio’s attention once more.
“We need to leave! Now!” Cazador cried, and just as the Bastillan soldiers burst onto the rooftop, the three fugitives leapt on their flying carpet and took off once more.
“Is that everyone?” the second mate did a headcount of everyone aboard the Argo.
“We got everyone from the southern quarter of the city,” one sailor reported.
“And we got everyone from the eastern quarter,” another added.
“Everyone from the northern quarter’s present and accounted for, sir,” yet another said.
“Western quarter, where are they?” the second mate looked around.
“Right here!” Usuff appeared on the docks, carrying a tied-up and ornery old woman and flanked by his group of men with their assorted evacuees.
“Usuff!” the second mate grinned. “Is that everyone?”
“Yes,” Usuff and his men came on deck. “We’re ready to ship off immediately!”
“I must say, this is rather a crowded pirate ship,” Rubí said to Usuff. “But… I suppose I don’t mind.”
“You stupid girl! Untie me at once!” the granny howled.
“Oh, hush mama!”
“I don’t want to be a pirate,” José grumbled.
“Everyone, set sail!” Usuff shouted.
“What about the Captain?” the second mate asked.
“He’ll be flying in once we’re safely out of here,” Usuff said. “Get going!’
And so, the sailors set out at once, their ship slowly sailing away from the harbor. Meanwhile, still within the city limits, Cazador felt a charm in his coat pocket bristle with magic energy.
“Wuff’s dat?” Erin asked with a mouthful of pork.
“It’s a signal, from my first mate,” Cazador grinned. “It means everyone’s safely on board and getting away. Quickly, let’s get out of here.”
“Right!” Erin zoomed towards the city limits, Alvarado’s posse still hot on her heels.
“Get them! Get them before they reach the coast!” Alvarado howled.
“It’s too late, Alvarado,” Cazador cast one last cackle. “My ship is already safely out to sea. Farewell!”
“Wha- …Liar!” Alvarado screamed. But as the Bastillan soldiers were forced to halt their horses as they reached the coastline, Alvarado saw Cazador flying towards his ship, already far out in the distance. There was nothing he could do. The sea captain had won. Slowly, Alvarado began to snort and hiss, his teeth grinding and his fists clenched in unbridled fury as he realized how Cazador had made a fool of him. A fool, played as easily as that bard had played his lute and sung that abominable song. As his soldiers glanced at him worriedly, Alvarado still heard that terrible tune pounding inside his head like a cannonball.
“Er… what now, Cap’n Armadillo?” Vicks asked from beside him.
And with that question, Alvarado at last exploded. Screaming at the top of his lungs, Alvarado drew his rapier and drove it straight through Vicks. Then again. And again. And again. Then, still not satisfied, Alvarado began to hack and swing at the soldier, beating Vicks with his sword as though it were a whip. As Vicks screamed and screamed, his horse squirming from underneath him, the other soldiers could only stare in horror as the captain continued. Soon Vicks fell off his horse, with the poor creature running into the sea with fright, but still Alvarado did not stop. Leaping off his own horse, the captain continued to hack at the sobbing Vicks, until finally, he could sob and scream no more. As the other soldiers only stared in shock, Alvarado’s ragged breath was the only sound that could be heard, as blood now lay splattered across his blade, his clothes, and his face.
“The time for fun and games is over,” Alvarado hoarsely whispered. “Starting now, we prepare for war.”
From outside Bastilla, on a wagon bound south, a young man turned back to gaze upon the city once more.
“What’s with you?” Julia asked. “You look like you just saw a ghost.”
“I just…” Morien shivered. “I had the most horrible feeling. Like, somehow we made things worse instead of better.”