Let Slip The Princesses of War
Read Let Slip The Princesses of War Online
Authors: David Schenck
Let Slip the Princesses of War
The Princess Company:
Book 1
By David Schenck
These fairy tale princesses aren’t for your kids!
The Princess and the Pea has a drinking problem, but she's deadly with a six-gun. Cinderella has a flaming sword and a rodent infestation. And Rapunzel has cut off her hair to make a lethal whip and has a
bit of
a very foul-mouth.
The Wicked Queen has almost won. Only the kingdom of Snow White remains free. But for how long? The Princess Company is the last hope of millions.
Now our three heroines set off on a mission deep into enemy territory to rescue Sleeping Beauty (no longer asleep) and obtain a secret weapon that could turn the tide of the war!
Copyright © 2016 by David Schenck
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
“Any of that stew left?” I asked Sweet Pea.
She took a long swig from her bottle and belched before leaning forward to check on the stew. She drank like she had something to prove. Fought like it too. And maybe she did. Pea had a reputation for being soft. At least that’s the story I’d heard. Still, she’d joined up almost as soon as Ms. White put out the call, after the dwarf massacre back in ’73. By the time I’d gotten to know her, a few years later, Pea was as tough as nails (and not the kind on your fingers). I make no apologies for joining late. The dwarves were none of my kin. And I’d had my own people to worry about. Had.
“Yep. There’s a bit. Seen better days though.”
“Who among us hasn’t?” I tossed her my tin plate. “Let me have it.”
She started to dish it out. Then she was on her feet both guns out, before the spoon hit the pot. I was just a blink behind her, whip ready. I’d heard it too.
A figure appeared at the edge of the firelight. “You two are a little jumpy tonight.”
“Shay! You know better than to sneak up like that. We could have killed you.”
“You coulda tried.” She nodded at me. “New hair style Rae? I liked it better the old way.”
I ran a hand through my cropped hair. “Yeah, me too. Don’t worry. I’ll go back. After.” This is a running joke with us. I cut my hair short as soon as I joined the Company. We all made sacrifices. “What are you doing down here with the peons?”
“All right Sweets. You can put the guns down. We’re on the same side. Remember?”
I lowered my whip. Sweet Pea hesitated for just a moment before putting up her guns. Always been bad blood between Scheherazade and Sweet Pea. I don’t know why. It was before my time. Rumors have it there was a man involved. I don’t listen to rumors. Much.
“Ms. White wants to see you. She’s got a special project for you two. Night after tomorrow at the Palace.”
“And she sent you to personally issue the invitation?” Asked Pea
“I was in the neighborhood. Snow, er, Ms. White asked me to stop in on you.”
No titles in the Company. Not that discipline is lax. We call her Ms. White. You can call her Snow, if you’re suicidal or one damn charming Prince.
The dwarves used to call her Snow, of course. Back when there were dwarves.
“What’s it about?”
“All I can tell you is be at the Palace night after tomorrow. It’s not an invitation.”
Pea held out her almost empty bottle. “You, uh… you want a drink?” It cost her something, being nice to Shay.
Shay shook her head. “Thanks. I’ve got to get on my way. Miles to go before I sleep and all that.” And then she was just gone.
“How does she do that?” I asked Pea.
She took another long pull from her bottle, tossed it, now empty, into the fire and shook her head. “Dun know. Magic I guess.”
“Get some sleep Pea. Long walk tomorrow. I’ll take first watch.”
She took off her long coat and spread it on the ground. I always liked to watch Pea stretch out to sleep on the hard ground. Reminds me how we can all change.
I put my back against a tree and with my whip coiled in my lap I settled in for the watch.
The next morning Sweet Pea woke me with a kick to the foot.
“Sun’s been up half an hour. If you want some breakfast there’s a bit of week old bread and some honey.”
While I chewed away at the tough bread, Pea packed up her gear. She bent down into the ashes of the fire to retrieve her, now magically refilled, whiskey bottle. She stopped half bent.
“Do you see that?” She asked.
“You mean the 5 foot tall glowing letters that say ‘Horses at stable in Greengeld’? Yeah I see it.”
“Guess we’re riding to the palace in style.”
“I guess we are.”
The stables in Greengeld were the opposite of style. Filthy, almost falling down and they stank. The stable hand was expecting us and he showed us two broken down nags.
“I’m pretty sure I can walk faster than this horse.” I told him, examining the proffered mount.
He shrugged “Maybe you could. You’re welcome to try. Of course, slow or fast, riding is less work than walking.”
He had a point, and I wasn’t exactly looking forward to the long walk to the Palace. “You have a point and I’m not exactly looking forward to the long walk to the palace. Saddle um up!”
20 minutes later Pea and I were swaying down the road. Pea sat way back in her saddle, almost lying on her back and took out her guns and started to clean them.
“You’re always cleaning those fucking guns!”
“Yep. That way they’ll work when I need them. Not everybody’s got a magic whip.”
We made poor time and by early afternoon it was clear that we would have to ride into the night and probably still wouldn’t arrive at the palace in time for dinner tomorrow.
“I’m hungry. Let’s find a spot to grab a quick lunch.” Pea said.
I knew she wanted a quick pull at her bottle too.
“OK. I don’t see that it makes much difference if we get there a little late or really late.”
A short while later we crossed a small stream with a bit of a clearing on its bank and some grass for the horses.
Pea looked in our bags and pulled out a couple of wrinkled apples and a hunk of dried cheese. She broke the cheese in half and passed me my apple.
“A meal fit for a queen.” She bowed low.
I am a queen too. Sweet Pea is just a princess. I out rank her, protocol-wise. Of course, neither of our kingdoms exist anymore, so it’s kind of academic.
We ate our cheese and apples in silence except for the sound of chewing and the babbling of the stream. If you had closed your eyes and forgotten everything, the war, the dead, the loss, just closed your eyes and let the sun warm your face, you could almost enjoy the moment. Two friends picnicking by a stream. Of course, I couldn’t forget any of it, and neither could Pea.
Then I heard a noise. A soft noise.
“Pea? You hear that?”
Pea had her eyes closed and the bottle at her lips. “Nope.”
“Shush. Listen.”
She lowered the bottle. And made a show of listening. “Nope. Nothing. What’s it sound like?”
“Like someone strangling a dog, quietly. I’m going to take a look.”
She waved. “Have fun. Yell if you run into a dragon or something and need help.”
“Will do.”
I followed the stream bank in the direction of the sound. It was faint and sometimes I thought I’d just imagined it. But then a few moments later I would hear it again. After about 10 minutes of walking the stream widened out into a small pond and on one bank was a little man, a gnome or something, struggling with a black cloth bag. The bag was bigger than the man and it was moving.
“Oye! What ya got in that bag?”
He looked at me and returned to wrestling with his bag without answering. It was so funny that I just watched him for a long while. Finally, frustrated he threw his hands up and sat down on the bag and started crying. The bag wriggled furiously beneath his butt, but the little guy had surprisingly good balance and refused to be thrown off.
I walked over and he looked up as if just seeing me for the first time.
“Good afternoon to you ‘mam.” He lifted his hat. “Would you be so kind as to help me carry this bag down to the pond?”
“What’s in the bag?”
“A dog. A wicked dog.”
“A wicked dog? I’m pretty sure there’s no such thing.”
“Oh this one is. Wicked through and through.”
“And why are you taking it to the pond?
“I intend to drown him and rid the world of his wickedness.”
“Well, you’re a regular fuckin’ altruist aren’t ya? Let me see this wicked dog.”
“I assure you madam, it would be best for all concerned if we just drowned him with all speed.”
I unhooked my whip from my belt, “I doubt it would be best for the dog. And he seems to be a concerned party. Open the bag.”
He didn’t move, so I lashed at him with my whip. A slow lazy lash. A tangling lash, not a killing lash. The long golden strands flowed towards the gnome and wrapped him tightly and with a quick tug I pulled him off the bag.
“Madam! I must protest this attack! If you won’t help me urp!”
A twist of my whip brought a few strands over his mouth effectively gagging him.
“There, now that I have a little peace and quiet, let’s take a look at this wicked dog.”
I bent down and opened the sack and saw a largish dog. His paws were tied front and back and a tight band was over his muzzle. He was writhing furiously.
I ran my hand over the soft reddish gold fur of his head and he nuzzled his snout into my palm.
“Seems like a sweet dog to me.”
The gnome struggled in his bonds. Might as well fight against gravity. I studied the ropes that tied the dog for a few seconds and then with a quick tug they fell away. I’ve always been good with knots.
The dog, now free, leapt to his feet, barked for joy and jumped up to lick my face. I gently pushed him down. “Ok, boy! Sit!” He sat immediately. I patted his head. “Yep, really wicked dog. Seems like a threat to the world. I think I’ll call him Ben.”
I flicked my wrist and my whip released the gnome and coiled itself back into my hand. The dog, newly christened Ben, instantly laid back his ears and began barking at the little man.
“Ben! Sit! Quiet!” I ordered. He sat right down, growling menacingly.
The gnome got to his feet and ran away into the woods. “You’ll regret this!” He called over his shoulder.
“Funny little man, eh Ben? Come on.”
I headed back along the bank to where I’d left Pea, Ben following along.
“Look what I found in the forest!”
“A dog!”
“A dog! He followed me home! Can I keep him?”
“Can he keep up with the horses?” Pea asked.
“A snail could keep up with the horses.”
“The moment I said it I knew it was a stupid question. You’re leading this little parade. You can keep him if you want. Though, I’m not sure what Ms. White will say about you taking a pet along on her special project.”
“We’ll bury that monkey when we come to it.”
“What kind of dog is he?”
I looked at him critically. “I’m not sure. Maybe a bit of golden retriever?”
“Maybe a bit of setter?” Pea added.
“Good old mutt!” I decided.
Ben looked at me, almost, like I’d insulted him.
But when we were back on the road, Ben was right alongside us. So, I guess all was forgiven.
We rode late into the night. When we stopped to make camp, Ben wandered off into the woods. I made a fire and cooked up some dinner. We take turns cooking, but Pea is a much better cook. Ben wandered back into camp after a couple of hours and turned his nose up at the leftovers I offered him.
Pea took the first watch and as I lay down to sleep, Ben came and lay down beside me, his breath hot and doggy on my neck and surprisingly comforting.
Pea woke me a few hours later for my watch. She was a little unsteady and she stank of magic whiskey. Funny thing is, Sweet Pea is a better guard, better shot, better fighter, all around better soldier when she’s drunk.
She belched, loud and smelly in my face. A better soldier, but not such great company. When she’s drunk. I love Pea and I’d kill and die for her and I have (killed that is, not died). And I know she would do the same for me, and she has (again, killed, not died). Still, I pushed her away. And she stumbled and fell on her ass. She saluted me with the bottle and took the last swig and, basically, passed out, cradling her beloved bottle.
The thing with the magic whiskey bottle is; Pea has to drink the whole thing every night. If she doesn’t finish the whole bottle it doesn’t refill. I’m not sure if missing one night kills it for good, or if you could just finish it the next night, but Pea isn’t taking any chances. It was a kind of gift / curse from a wandering fairy or something. There was a well and an old woman, who was really a fairy in disguise, and either Pea offered the old woman a drink or there was a fight about who would drink first or something and well, Pea got this magic whiskey bottle. Also the fucker is damn near indestructible. I’ve seen her use it to split wood and to kill trolls. Gift? Curse? Who knows? But it’s pretty damn nice to have around. It’s also a pain to have around. I guess that’s the whole point.
I woke Pea at first light and we hit the road. It was still a long way to the palace.