The Hero's Guide to Being an Outlaw (12 page)

“Hello? I’m getting bored,” Jerica said.

Gustav snapped out of his reverie and took a swing at her. She deflected it and advanced on him. Their swords clanged together until Gustav found himself backed up to the edge of the deck. “You’re only winning because you’ve forced me to fight with a girly weapon,” he complained.

“The man I defeated to win that sword would be offended,” Jerica said. “But fine. Let’s switch.” Before Gustav even knew what was happening, she yanked the cutlass from his hand and replaced it with Greenfang’s scimitar.

“What the—?” Gustav sputtered.

Jerica backed off, giving him a chance to step away from the edge. “Come at me,” she said. And Gustav complied, more worked up than ever. Once again she parried each of his blows, only this time she managed to spin him around and back him up to the front rail of the ship, only a half inch away from another dip into the crashing blue waves.

Gustav refused to be cowed. “Ha! You think you’re so tough. You’re just—”

“Just what? A girl?” Jerica asked, her sword pressed against his.

Gustav snorted. “No girl’s ever gotten the better of me.”

“Not even Rapunzel?”

Gustav’s face went red. “I would’ve been fine without her help!” he shouted.

“Aha! So you
are
Prince Gustav,” Jerica said as she pulled him to safety.

“No! Um, no!” Gustav stammered. “That’s not what I said. Don’t listen to me! I don’t know what— I’m— I’m— Aargh! You tricked me! Now, I’m really going to—”

“To what?” Jerica said. “Please, I’m dying to hear.”

But before Gustav got a chance to give an answer (which is good, because he didn’t have one), a loud whistle sounded from middeck. The big strongman of a pirate who had captured Frederic was now holding him over the side of the ship, dangling by his ankle. “I think you fellas might want to stop the rumble,” the big pirate said. “From what I hear, the skinny guy doesn’t swim too well.”

Behind him, Mr. Flint held Duncan, who was trying to shield his head from the parrot that was angrily pecking at him.

“Stand down, men,” Liam said. “This fight is over.” He laid down his sword, and as soon as he did, Key socked him in the chin.

“That’s for nicking my coat,” the first mate said, examining a tear in his sleeve. “Do you know how difficult it is to find a good tailor on the high seas?”

Jerica stepped to the lip of the foredeck to address her crew. She didn’t seem the slightest bit worried that Gustav stood right beside her with a sword in his hand.

“I have happily confirmed that, as we suspected, these men are indeed the League of Princes,” the pirate captain said. “Well, four of them, at least. The grubby one, the hairy one, and the half-naked one must be hired help.”

Gabberman nudged Two-Clubs with his ragged elbow. “She’s talkin’ ’bout us.”

Cheers sounded among the crew. Several shouted gleefully about gold and untold riches. Liam looked up at Gustav, half expecting him to head-butt Jerica from behind, but the big prince just stood silently staring at her hair. Suddenly, Frederic’s voice was heard over all the cheering.

“Excuse me, Miss Captain?”

“Captain will do,” Jerica replied, and she shushed her men. “What is it?”

“Well, based on the ecstatic hooting of your crew, I assume you’re planning to . . . Um, I’m sorry, could we possibly have this conversation with me right side up?”

“Go ahead, Tauro,” Jerica said. The enormous pirate set Frederic down on the deck.

“Thank you.” Frederic continued. “So, as I was saying, I assume you’re planning to turn us in for that reward from the kingdom of Avondell.”

“You assume correctly,” Jerica said.

“Well, I think your information may be outdated,” Frederic said. “How long have you been at sea?”

“Near two months, I’d say,” said Key.

“Ah, well, that explains it,” Frederic said. “You simply haven’t heard: The bounty on our heads has been called off. We presented the Avondellians with proof that Princess Briar Rose was, in fact, not murdered, but merely kidnapped by the Darians. Our names were cleared immediately.”

Gasps and grumbles sounded from among the pirates.

“Could this be true?” Jerica asked Mr. Key. The first mate shrugged. “Well, even if it is,” the captain continued, “you men are still very valuable prisoners.”

“Sure, I can’t argue that,” Frederic said, leaning casually against the foremast. “But wouldn’t you rather try for the new reward?”

“What new reward?” Key asked.

“Oh, that’s right—you’ve been out at sea, you don’t know,” Frederic said. “The bounty that the Avondellians were offering for us—‘
untold riches
’—they’re now offering the same as a reward to whoever brings Briar Rose home safely. You wouldn’t happen to have any idea where the princess is, would you?”

Jerica casually spun her sword in her hand. “There’s no need to play coy, Prince Frederic,” she said. “Yes, we’re the ship that the Darians hired to take the princess out to sea. But you already knew that. The only question left is what we’ll do with this new information.”

The crew murmured anxiously, while Jerica rubbed the tips of her fingers together, mulling her choices. “Pirates of the
Dreadwind
,” she finally announced. “Reverse course! We’re going to rescue a princess.” She turned to Gustav. “Looks like you and I are going to be spending a lot more time together.” Gustav gulped.

Roderick Key nimbly hopped up to the ship’s wheel, flipping over a railing rather than using the steps. “Back to the island then, Captain?” he asked Jerica.

“That’s right, Mr. Key,” she replied.

“Briar is on an island?” Liam asked.

“No,” Jerica said. “We’re taking a detour into the tropics because I have a craving for coconut juice.”

“Seriously?” Liam asked.

Jerica rolled her eyes. “You just told me that a reward awaits me if I find your missing princess,” she continued. “You think I’d waste time hunting down a refreshing beverage?”

Liam’s face turned red. “No, of course not,” he muttered.

“See, there’s your mistake,” Jerica said, wagging a sassy finger at him. “You shouldn’t trust me. I’m entirely capable of doing something like that.”

Gustav couldn’t help but snicker. Liam’s temples throbbed visibly.

“So, Briar really is on an island?” Liam asked.

Jerica shot Gustav a “Can you believe this guy?” look, and they both burst into loud laughter.

“Fine,” Liam growled. “Mock me all you want—”

“I’ve been waiting years to hear you say that!” Gustav blurted with glee. “Your hair looks like limp swamp grass, and your eyes are too small for your head. And when you get angry, you make a face like a horse with bad gas.”

Liam huffed and gnashed his teeth.

“Just like that,” Gustav added, pointing.

Liam folded his arms and said nothing.

“Okayyyy,” Jerica said slowly to Liam. “You are obviously not the fun one.”

“No, that would be me,” Duncan chirped. He leapt onto the portside rail, did a series of squealing pirouettes, and promptly fell overboard. Luckily he landed in a net full of squid that was in the process of being hauled in.

“Meh,” said Jerica. “I’ve seen funner.” She turned to the rest of the princes. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a ship to captain. Explore all you want—just stay out of my cabin. That’s off limits. You’d do well to get yourselves acquainted with the
Dreadwind
; she’s going to be your home for quite a while. It’s at least three weeks’ journey to the island where we dropped off your whiny princess.”

“Three weeks,” Frederic echoed sadly.

“You’d better get ready for some hard work,” Jerica said. “As long as you’re on board this ship, you’re crew. Noseless Joe! Pegbeard! Show the newbies the ropes.”

Gabberman clapped his hands. “Huzzah! I get to be on the crew o’ the
Dreadwind
! That’s even more excitin’ than havin’ me own ship!”

“This is going to be a very interesting three weeks,” Frederic said as they followed their pirate tutors along the deck. “Isn’t it, Gustav? Gustav?”

But Gustav wasn’t paying attention. He was staring back over his shoulder at Jerica.

“
I
f I’d known sailing was this much fun, I would’ve gotten kidnapped by pirates ages ago,” Duncan sang out as he swung through the rigging along the redwood-like masts of the
Dreadwind
. With its enormous sails unfurled, the massive galleon cut through the waves at a speedy clip, spraying salt and foam up along the rails, and dousing the crewmen who were busy hauling in nets—Liam and Gustav among them. The princes plopped their heavy load of flopping fish onto the deck, and Frederic began to sort them—holding each fish at arm’s length with a delicate, two-fingered pinch. Gustav’s shoulder rose and fell as he chuckled to himself.

“Well, if they’d given me the apron I asked for, I wouldn’t have to be so cautious,” Frederic said defensively.

“Huh?” Gustav said. “Oh, I’m not laughing at you, Tassels. I was just thinking . . . ‘Mock me all you want.’ Heh. Priceless.”

Liam huffed and shook his head. “That was three days ago. You’re never going to let me live that down, are you?”

“Nope,” Gustav said, still laughing.

Duncan slid down a rope and landed among his friends. “Ooh, is that a flying fish?” he asked eagerly.

“It doesn’t have feathers, if that’s what you were hoping,” Frederic said, gingerly dropping the fish into its proper bin. “Oh,
now
you look upset? Bounty hunters, shipwrecks, your wife in prison—all of that you laugh through. But you’re suddenly glum because a fish doesn’t have feathers?”

Duncan sat on the ship’s rail and shrugged. “Sometimes laughing helps me forget I’m scared,” he said. “And sometimes it’s just because something is fun. I mean, this has been one of our more exciting adventures: pirates, sea monsters, this awesome hat . . . But with Snow in danger, there will always be a little part of me that is very, very worried. I think it’s my left elbow.”

“Duncan’s got a point,” Liam said seriously. “We can’t forget that the women are in grave danger. They’re relying on us to come through for them. This is terribly serious business. Not all of us seem to be aware of that.” He glared at Gustav.

“What?” Gustav blurted.

“Oh, don’t be too hard on Gustav,” Duncan said. “You can’t blame him for sharing a couple of laughs with the pirate lady when he’s in love with her.”

“In lo— What? You’re mad!” Gustav sputtered. “I am not in anything! Except maybe a mood to head butt you.”

“Love may be putting it a bit strongly at this stage,” Frederic said as he neatly arranged some herring by size. “But it’s pretty clear you’re interested in Jerica.”

Gustav began to sweat. And blush. He looked like a melting tomato. “It’s not— Agh! It’s not, you know,
that
kind of interest. I’m just, you know . . . She does that thing with her mouth.”

“You mean smiling?” Frederic asked.

“No,” Gustav said. “Not regular smiling. Regular smiling is what you do after you’ve beaten someone up or just finished a good steak. What she does is . . . it’s . . .” He huffed and shook his head. “She’s the
enemy
, for crying out loud!”

There was an awkward pause as Gustav panted, catching his breath.

“I don’t think she’s as bad as she makes herself out to be,” Duncan finally said.

“And for what it’s worth,” Frederic added gently, “I think she’s got a little crush on you, too.”

Gustav’s eyes widened. “Really?”

His three friends all nodded.

“Well, okay then,” he said. He brushed his long blond hair back with his fingers and started feeling at his face. “Am I still all blotchy?”

“What are you planning to do?” Frederic asked.

“I’m gonna talk to her,” Gustav replied. He cleared his throat, cracked his neck, and started toward the captain’s quarters.

“I thought
talking
was the only thing you were afraid of,” Liam said.

“I’m Gustav the Mighty. I’m not afraid of anything.”

Mavis and Marvella gawked at each other, convinced that the imaginary elephant they’d been grooming had just blasted them with a powerful gust of air from its invisible trunk. In reality, it was Smimf, who whizzed past them on his way into the throne room at Castlevaria. He was virtually impossible to see while running at his top speeds, so the entire Sylvarian royal family got quite a surprise when the young messenger appeared to pop out of thin air. Queen Apricotta, who’d been busy drawing faces on fruit, was so shocked that she tossed her bowl of smiling plums up in the air. Only King King seemed unmoved, barely shifting in his seat.

“Good day, sirs, Your Highnesses, sirs. I apologize for the startling entrance, but the news I am delivering is of a rather urgent variety.”

The king cocked his head like a curious puppy.

“I come bearing a message from the League of Princes,” Smimf rattled off. “Well, technically it was Princess Lila who sent me, but she works with the League. So does your son. Which I’m sure you know, so I probably didn’t need to mention that. But anyway, you need to be on the lookout for the Darians.”

“Who’s Darren?” Queen Apricotta asked.

“Darians, sir, Your Highness, sir. They’ve got a magical gem, and they’re on the march across the Thirteen Kingdoms, intending to take over everything. It’ll be a bad scene, sir. Worse than that time my grandmother’s wooden foot caught fire.”

The king became suddenly active. He waved his arms, waggled his fingers, and pumped his fist—but his eyes remained blank.

“Are you all right, sir, Your Highness, sir?” Smimf asked, growing concerned. “You’ve got a . . . strange look in your eyes.”

“Don’t mind Daddy,” Marvella said. “He’s
always
a bit strange.”

“I don’t mean normal strange,” Smimf said. “I mean
strange
strange. Like the way my grandmother looked after she drank that gallon of paint.”

King King opened his mouth as if to scream, but no sound came out.

Smimf furrowed his brow. “Okay, sir, I guess I’ll be leaving,” he said. “But I hope you’ll heed Princess Lila’s advice and get Sylvaria’s army ready.”

“Sylvaria doesn’t have an army, young man,” the queen said. “Perhaps she said we should get our
arms
ready?” She began flapping like a bird.

“No army?” asked Smimf. “Then who were all those armed men outside?”

At that moment, a head poked out from an alcove in the back of the room—a bald head, with pale, almost bluish skin and teeth that had been filed into sharp triangles. This human barracuda briefly locked eyes with Smimf and began pounding a nearby gong. A horde of Darian soldiers rushed into the throne room, swords and spears at the ready. Smimf gasped when he saw them and zipped off instantly. The warriors froze in their tracks, baffled by the messenger’s disappearance.

Queen Apricotta looked back toward the nightmarish-looking bald man and asked, “Are you Darren?”

Frustrated, the man waved off the other Darians and ducked back inside his hideaway—a dusty old storage area filled with empty shelves. A sign above the alcove read
A PLACE FOR THINGS WE FORGET TO PUT AWAY.

In the darkness, the pale Darian lifted a glowing crystal orb. He rubbed it, and the swirling green mists within the glass parted, revealing the face of his master.

“What is it, Falco?” Lord Rundark asked.

The mute Darian made a series of rapid hand gestures, and Rundark nodded in understanding. (Yes, Falco could not speak—but that had not stopped the Warlord from positioning him as the puppet controller of Sylvaria, a kingdom where he rightly figured that any odd behavior would go unnoticed.) “Continue as you were told, Falco,” Rundark replied. “Worry not. Our forces are in place. And the princes are en route to their final destination.”

Fig. 15
VISION ORB

Falco put away the orb and checked on the royal family. The twins were shuffling around the room, feeling the air with outstretched hands, hoping to find the messenger, whom they assumed to be invisible. Their mother had gone back to dotting cartoon eyes onto lemons. All was back to normal.

But one kingdom over, in a barely lit basement chamber, Lord Rundark was troubled. He turned away from the king-size crystal orb that sat on a chest-high pedestal constructed of human bones. “I should kill the princes now and be done with it,” he said into the shadows.

“Patience,” a thin voice replied. “It’ll be much better this way. Unforgettable.”

“I don’t care,” Rundark said.

“You will soon have everything you want,” the voice said. It sounded irritated. “Now it’s my turn. And remember that without me, you couldn’t have any of this—not without years of war and hardship. Who showed you how to split the Gem? Who amplified its power? Who gave you the orbs?”

“Enough,” Rundark said. “I will hold to our bargain.” He sauntered over to a large map that was nailed to the wall below two drippy, wax-caked candle sconces. It was a map of the Thirteen Kingdoms, not that you could easily tell, thanks to all the thick red Xs scratched across it. “After all, you are right: This bargain of ours
has
given me the world.”