Shadewell Shenanigans (18 page)

“That’s all right,” said Mediocre, smiling. “We’ve got a barge.”

Mr. Big eyed the innkeeper carefully.

“You reckon he’s telling the truth?” he said, glancing back at his companions.

They both gave a reluctant nod.

“I am, sir,” the innkeeper bleated. “Absolutely the gods’ own truth, sir.”

“Yeah, well, we’ll just have to see, won’t we? Now, how many times has Loogie been here to collect my money?”

“T-twice, sir.”

“An’ you paid ’im both times?” Mediocre inquired.

“Er … yes, sir. All we could afford, sir.”

Big nodded. “I thought so. Let’s move …”

Big snapped his fingers and the other two turned and headed out of the inn.

“Thanks for your help,” he said to the innkeeper, making for the entrance hole himself. “An’ don’t worry yourself; I’ll be collecting my own money from next month on …”

The group sniggered as they loped into the distance.

Groan and Gordo were hacking their way back through the forest of Rintintetly. Gape walked a little ways behind the duo, occasionally fingering the wound on his neck. Although the bite didn’t hurt anymore, he was still very conscious of it.

“Keep alert,” Gordo warned, peering over his shoulder.

It had taken them the best part of the morning to find the path they’d used to enter the wood. Still, they’d managed to get a few hours’ sleep, and now, at last, things were looking up. They could hear the rushing waters of the Washin in the distance. Nobody wanted to talk about the fire demon or the sky-spinner. In fact, nobody wanted to talk about anything that’d happened the previous day. Besides, there were more pressing matters …

“I don’t understand it,” Gape said, kicking the odd branch as he strode along. “Why would she send us off after a lot of treasures that don’t exist?”

“Yeah, right, don’ make no sense,” Groan bellowed, but he could’ve been talking about
anything.

“It makes perfect sense,” chirped the head of Loogie Lambontroff. “You’ve all been done up like a sack full of kippers.”

“I think he’s right,” Gordo added. “I just can’t work out for the life of me
why
the princess would have it in for all of us?”

“Maybe she didn’t,” Gape hazarded. “Maybe it’s her father or something?”

“I ain’t never done nothin’ ta Phlegm,” Groan roared.

“None of us have,” Gordo agreed. “We’ve had our problems with Dullitch—”

“An’ Legrash,” Groan added.

“And Spittle, but never any truck with Phlegm.”

The sound of the river was getting closer. Gape made a beeline for it, and the others followed.

“Curfew must’ve been pretty rattled when we broke out of his dungeons,” Gordo reasoned, thinking aloud. “And I know his uncle
really
hated us. Hey, Groan, d’you remember Duke Modeset?”

Groan frowned with the effort of recollection. “Didn’ ’e drop a cage over us when we saved them kids from tha’ wizard?” he said.

“That’s him,” said Gordo. “Poisoned us too, you remember?”

“What about when
we
first met up?” Gape said. “You remember half-inching those jeweled swords from Legrash?”

“Yeah.” Groan laughed. “We got a good price for ’em, an’ all. Wha’ ’bout that countin’ howse we smashed up in Sneeze—when Chuckbuckle or wha’ever ’is name was came after us on ’is cart horse?”

There was a moment of awkward silence.

“You know,” Gordo said. “We’ve probably upset a fair few nobles in our time.”

“Me too,” Gape muttered.

Groan swiped at an overhanging branch. “O’ course we ’ave,” he thundered. “What else is there?”

The trio emerged onto the eastern bank of the Washin, and Gape immediately began searching the ground.

Gordo and Loogie watched as the warrior hurried back and forth across the riverbank, shaking his head.

Groan frowned. “What’s your problem?” he shouted.

“The boat!” Gape called back. “Someone’s taken the boat!”

“Oh, is that what it was?” said Stump, suddenly emerging from the river with a wriggling fish on a stick. “I probably shouldn’t have burned it then, eh?”

The ensuing silence was quickly disrupted.

“You did what?” Gape exclaimed, drawing both swords and striding toward the wildman.

“Sorry,” said Stump, holding his hands out apologetically. “But I needed to get a fire going, and I thought it was just boat-shaped wood.”

“I’ll let you in on a little secret,” Gape muttered. “Wood formed in the shape of a boat is something we like to call … a BOAT.”

“Like I said, I’m really sorry. There’s a lot of it left. Did you lot have anything to do with the skyship that crashed into the river earlier? Frightened me out of my life, that did. I was gonna go looking for it, then I thought—”

“I know you!” Gordo said, recognizing the profile. “You’re that weirdo from the Twelve: Stap, Strop, no, Stump, isn’t it?” He turned to his companion. “You remember Stump, Groan? He was with young Jimmy that time, in the mountain.”

Groan nodded. “Yeah, he dis’peared.”

“So he did.” Gordo laughed at the recollection. “Where’d you go, Stump?”

The wildman shrugged. “Fell down a hole, I think. Funny really, because I fell down a hole in the first place, ha-ha-ha-ha!”

“Whatever,” Gape snapped, lowering his swords and slumping onto a nearby rock. “All I want to know is how we’re planning to get across the river without a bloody boat!”

“Don’t panic,” Gordo told the warrior, as Stump led him toward the smoking wreckage of what had once been their boat. “I’m sure we can still make a decent raft.”

“A raft?” Gape gasped. “When we had a perfectly good boat? We should throw this maniac in the river!”

“Thanks a lot,” said Stump grumpily. “But I’ve had enough water for one lifetime.”

He indicated the river and rolled his eyes.

Groan shrugged. “Match
your
bad ’xperiences ’gainst ours any day o’ the week.”

“I don’t think so,” Stump muttered, toasting his fish over the dying embers of his fire.

“Oh, yeah?” said Gordo, sitting down beside the wildman. “How’s this? First we’re conned into questing for nonexistent treasures by a lying princess—”

Gape cut in. “
Then
we rescue an innkeeper and his wife, get lumbered with a crazy gangster—”

“I resent that,” said a voice.

“—who turns out to be a half-zombie twinling that won’t die even when we decapitate it.”

“
Then
we’re cheated out of a riverboat crossing by the wily old maniac whose boat you just burned,” Gordo went on. “Then—wait, I’m not finished—then we get attacked by archers, taken to the forgotten city of Wemeru, and have a right old kick off with people who’ve been dead longer than we’ve been alive. We end the day flying over Kazbrack Island in a pile of enchanted wood, pursued by fire demons and spat at by a giant volcano! Top that!”

Stump whistled between his teeth. “I can’t top it,” he said, as Groan took a seat at his side. “But how’s this: I started the morning being pursued across a mean stretch of forest by a blue tiger. Then I got knocked unconscious and tied up by some crazy girl, who turns out to be a princess in disguise; then her and her maid get caught by a duke who shoots the tiger—”

“What princess?” Gape interrupted, glaring at the wildman with fiery eyes.

Stump shrugged. “I didn’t catch her name,” he managed. “But her father’s the King of Phlegm.”

“What DUKE?” Gordo asked, standing up and gripping the handle of his stout battle-axe.

“I think I heard her call him Modeset,” said Stump. “But hang on a minute, the best bit’s still to come—”

“MODESET!” Gordo muttered, staring at Gape and Groan, who were also beginning to look decidedly concerned. “What’s he doing in Phlegm?”

“Takin’ over, by the looks of it.” Stump laughed. “By the time I managed to escape on his royal coach, he’d had the king and his daughter dragged away by their own guards! Crazy, eh? Who’d have thought you could overthrow a king with words!”

There followed a sudden, terrible silence.

“What words in particular?” Gape asked, licking his lips as he saw Stump tucking into his fish.

The wildman finished his mouthful and grinned. “Well, from what I heard, he threatened to tell the other leaders that the princess’d interfered with his plan by trying to warn your big friend, here, about something …”

All eyes turned to Groan, as the big barbarian flexed his muscles. “We’ve bin ’ad,” he said.

“Yeah.” Gordo nodded. “By bloody Modeset. We should’ve killed that vindictive little squirt when we busted out of Dullitch.”

“Na, he’d ’ready bin exiled by then,” Groan said, stealing a cut of Stump’s fish for himself. Gordo and Gape followed suit.

“I know I’m not in the best position to contribute to all your intricate conspiracy talk,” said the head of Loogie Lambontroff gruffly. “But would you mind including me in the food handouts, because I’m not quite dead, you know.”

Gordo pressed a slice of fish against Loogie’s lips, and peered balefully out at the river.

“I
DON’T BELIEVE IT,”
Gordo said, peering out at the river. “We spend all afternoon lashing a raft together, and just when we finally complete the thing, we don’t bloody need it.”

“Eh?” Groan mumbled, raising an eyebrow.

“There’s a barge coming,” Gape translated. “And a decent-sized one at that.”

“Let’s have a look,” Loogie muttered, annoyed that he couldn’t scratch the itch beneath his nose.

“There’s not much
to
see,” Stump told him. “It’s just a big red barge with something scrawled on the side of it.”

“Let me see NOW!” screamed Loogie.

Gordo sighed, unhooked the head, and held it up toward the river.

“Satisfied?” the dwarf snapped.

“Yeah,” said Loogie, smiling nervously. “But I’d get back in the woods if I were you.”

Gape glanced at Groan, and they both stared at the trembling head.

“Why’s that?” Gordo asked.

“Because that barge belongs to my boss, and he isn’t a very nice man.”

Groan shrugged.

“Yeah, well, neither are we,” said Gape resentfully. “And we’ve had a really bad day.”

“I’m
serious,
” Loogie’s head intoned. “The best thing we can do is make a run for it. If we don’t, they’ll kill us ALL.”

“Groan Teefgrit runs from no man,” roared Groan.

“He’s not kidding,” Gordo added.

“Is it all going to kick off?” Stump inquired, always on the lookout for his own personal safety. “Because I’ve got places to go, you know—”

“Here, look after this,” said Gordo, waddling over to the wildman and thrusting the head into his hands.

“Now, hang on—”

“Just be thankful that we’re not handing you a sword,” Gordo told him, unsheathing his battle-axe.

Groan and Gape drew their blades at the same moment. They could both vaguely make out figures moving around on the flat deck of the barge.

“It’s Mr. Big,” Loogie chattered, sweat beginning to form on his brow. “He’s probably looking for me … and he never travels alone.”

“How many of them are there, then?” Gape asked, climbing onto his rock to gain a better vantage point.

“Can’t see,” said Groan. The giant barbarian had already assumed battle stance.

“There’s three,” said Stump, who lived and died by the strength of his eyesight. He pointed at Groan: “One guy who looks about your height, one not much smaller, and a dwarf. They’re all armed.”

“Look, we don’t actually have to fight, do we?” Gordo said doubtfully. “I mean, if he’s
your
boss—”

“I see where you’re going with that,” said the head of Loogie Lambontroff. “Only problem is, I sort of ran out on him about six weeks ago, and I’ve been freelancing a bit with his customers. I doubt whether he’ll throw his arms around me, not that he could even if he wanted to …”

Gape squinted at the barge. “You reckon they’re all armed?” he said to Stump. “Can you see what they’re armed
with
?”

The wildman nodded. “Two have got swords, and it looks like the big one’s got a pistol.”

“How come every scumbucket’s got a pistol, all of a sudden?” Gordo spat, staring gloomily at his battle-axe. “I don’t know, some bloke in Legrash invents a hand-banger and suddenly you can’t get away from ’em.”

“You’re telling me!” said Loogie, who was a good two hundred years older than anybody else. “It was the same thing with crossbows, you know.”

Stump sniggered at the remark, and was about to give his own opinions on the danger posed by ballistics, when a piece of lead shot took a chunk out of his shoulder.

“Ahhhhh!”

The wildman fell, unintentionally throwing Loogie high into the air, as Groan and Gordo dived for the safety of the riverbank.

Gape had dropped one of his swords and was spinning around in a circle with the other, like a particularly adept shot-putter. Faster and faster he went, every muscle straining with the effort. Finally, he released his remaining sword, which shot out across the water like a rogue missile.

There was a distant scream, and the biggest figure on the barge toppled backward into the water. His two companions immediately dived in, but it soon became apparent that they weren’t planning to linger around the barge looking for him. They were heading straight for the shore.

“Stay down,” Gape warned Stump, who was rolling around in agony and probably didn’t need the advice. At least he’d managed to catch the head on its way down.

Groan strode down the beach, splashed into the shallow water, and actually plucked Mr. Mediocre out of the river while the man was still swimming. He quickly smacked the sword out of Mediocre’s hand, grabbed him by the arm, and swung him toward Gape, who slugged the gangster in the face with his free hand and raised his sword for a vertical slash. Unfortunately, he didn’t get the chance to swing it.

Mediocre threw three punches in quick succession, each explosively well judged, and all on target. Gape staggered back, as surprised at the strength of his opponent as he was that the man had survived a Gape “face-slammer.”

Gordo Goldeaxe, at the far end of the bank, was having serious problems. The dwarf that had leaped from the water had disarmed him with comparative ease and was now ruthlessly slashing at his armor with a gleaming short sword.