The Hero's Guide to Saving Your Kingdom (32 page)

“Yes, he can,” Frederic said definitively. “And he will.”

The troll raised its arms in the air and called to its fellow monsters, “Trolls, come here! Angry Man is
Prince
Angry Man! Angry Man give trolls land to grow trolls’ own vegetables!”

About seventy trolls, nearly the entire village, came bounding over. They looked like rolling waves of collard greens, and Frederic thought momentarily that the idea of these creatures eating vegetables seemed almost cannibalistic.

The troll villagers cheered and howled. Random shouts of “Yay, Angry Man!” and “Yay, veggies!” rose from the crowd.

“Glad to hear you’re all so excited about it,” Frederic said. “His real name, by the way, is Prince Gustav of Sturmhagen. And I am Frederic.”

“Troll will call you Angry Man and Ouching Man,” the lead troll stated matter-of-factly. “It is troll way: Trolls name humans after first thing troll notices about humans.”

“Fair enough,” Frederic said. “But we’d love to know
your
name, Mr. Troll.”

The troll furrowed its shaggy brow. “Ouching Man and Angry Man already know Troll’s name. Call Troll by Troll’s name whole time now.”

“I’m sorry, I’m confused,” Frederic said.

“Troll’s name is Troll,” the troll said, flashing a toothy smile. “All trolls’ name is Troll.” He pointed to a number of other trolls in the crowd. “That’s Troll. And that’s Troll. And that’s Troll.... All Troll.”

“Every troll is just named Troll?” Gustav asked in disbelief. “It must be impossible to keep track of who’s who.”

“Yeah,” Troll said with a sigh. “It not easy.”

“So, Troll…,” Frederic began.

“Say ‘Mr. Troll,’” Troll interjected. “Troll like sound of it.”

“Very well… Mr. Troll,” Frederic continued. “What are your plans for us now? Are you going to keep us locked in your prison? Or will you let Prince Angry Man go back to his castle and work out a sweet land deal for you and your people?”

“Angry Man can go!” Mr. Troll loudly declared, and a cheer rose up from the troll villagers. Mr. Troll then turned to Frederic with a somber look on his face. “But Ouching Man must stay. Ouching Man break troll law. Ouching Man needs be punished.”

“But look, Mr. Troll,” Frederic pleaded. “Gustav needs me to go with him. If I have to sit in this cage for ages, you won’t be able to get your land.”

“Ooh! Ooh! Troll found it!” came a cry from the back of the crowd. A squat three-horned troll moved to the front. It held a pile of large floppy leaves that were pinned together by one sharp stick. “Troll found troll law book!”

Frederic and Gustav exchanged worried glances. Frederic braced himself for the news that he would be expected to spend a hundred years in a troll prison, or worse.

The squat troll shuffled through the leaves of its “book,” sending several fluttering free, until it found the page it wanted. The creature pointed to a bunch of squiggles that we have to assume were words, and read, “Punishment for human sit on troll is … troll sit on human.”

“Great!” Gustav said. He looked at Frederic. “Well, get on the ground and get it over with.”

“Ouching Man heard Angry Man,” big Mr. Troll said. “Lie down.”

Frederic took a deep breath and lay down in the dirt. He hadn’t quite finished positioning himself when Mr. Troll plopped down on him. Frederic let out a big
oof!
and Mr. Troll stood back up.

“Okay,” Mr. Troll said. “Ouching Man can go now.”

“That wasn’t so bad,” Frederic said, dusting himself off. “Once you’ve been squashed by a giant, a troll doesn’t even seem nearly as heavy.”

With the entertainment over, the trolls dispersed, shuffling back off to do whatever it is that trolls do—steal vegetables, growl at humans, pile two rocks on top of each other and call it a gazebo … stuff like that.

“Wait, trolls!” Frederic hollered, waving his hands over his head. The creatures paid him no attention, so he bumped his hip against the cage. The entire structure crashed to the ground in a heap. This had the desired effect, as most of the trolls turned back to look at Frederic and Gustav standing among the scattered sticks.

“Hey, Ouching Man break cage! That going to take
minutes
to rebuild,” Mr. Troll complained. He considered the task for a second and then waved his big, furry hand dismissively. “Eh. Troll fix later. Don’t need cage anyway unless Ouching Man sit on troll again.”

“Never mind the cage, I have something very important to tell you,” Frederic said, addressing all the villagers. “This will affect all you trolls. Yes, even you, Troll. And you, too, Troll.”

One troll in the crowd leaned over to its neighbor and said approvingly, “Personal touch is nice.”

“Now as I said,” Frederic continued, “my friend Gustav here is a ruler of Sturmhagen, and he can help you trolls get some farmland of your own. He will do that because he likes trolls. He knows that trolls are good … people.” Many of the trolls nodded in appreciation. Frederic glanced over at Gustav to make sure he wasn’t going to interrupt, but Gustav quietly stood by with his arms crossed, curious to see what Frederic was up to.

“However, not every human is as nice as us,” Frederic said. “Some don’t like trolls. There’s a group of humans in the forest not too far from here right now who
hate
trolls.” Angry grumbles arose from the crowd.

“And those nasty, anti-troll humans are planning to take over the kingdom of Sturmhagen. If the Bandit King and his men do this, Angry Man won’t be able to help you trolls.”

“Trolls will not let this happen,” Mr. Troll declared unequivocally. “Trolls will stop Bandit Man!”

“He’s really more of a Bandit Boy,” Gustav said.

“Boy, man—it no matter to trolls,” Mr. Troll said. “Angry Man is trolls’ friend now. If Bandit Boy want to do bad things to Angry Man, trolls will do bad things to Bandit Boy.” A chorus of troll roars sounded from all around them.

“Where are bad humans?” Mr. Troll asked. His already unattractive face twisted itself into a frightening mask of fur, teeth, and angry glowing eyes. It sent a shiver through Frederic, and even Gustav flinched a little at the sight.

“They’ve set up camp in a big field to the west of here,” Frederic told them.

“Come, trolls!” Mr. Troll bellowed. “Trolls attack!”

With one hand, Mr. Troll hoisted Frederic up onto his shoulders. A gangly, hunchbacked troll grabbed Gustav and did the same. As they rode atop their trolls, Gustav glanced at Frederic.

“This could get very ugly, you know,” he said.

Frederic nodded.

“It’s the best idea you’ve had yet,” Gustav said gleefully.

And with that, the ground began to rumble as the entire troll village started marching westward.

24

P
RINCE
C
HARMING
H
ATES
C
HILDREN

H
ey, kid,” Liam taunted.

He and Duncan were each tied to a tree trunk on the edge of the bandit camp. They’d spent the whole night there. And throughout that long, sleepless night (well, sleepless for Liam, at least—Duncan, exhausted by self-doubt, had been out for hours), Liam had come up with a plan for dealing with the Bandit King. From what he could gather, Rauber had one major weakness: He was sensitive about his age. As soon as Liam saw the Bandit King walking by that morning, he started in. “Little boy, I’m talking to you.”

Rauber and his small entourage stopped. The Bandit King poked Horace, who was right by his side (Neville, having let the other princes slip away, had been demoted to the role of spitball target, and was busy dangling upside-down from a flagpole).

“Did you hear that, Horace?” Rauber smirked. “The prince called you little.” All the bandits laughed.

“That’s really funny, kiddo,” Liam said. “But you know I’m talking to you, right, squirt?”

“You want me to punch ’im?” Horace asked Rauber.

The Bandit King shook his head. “You know, I’d taken you for the smart one,” he said to Liam. “But maybe your snoozing buddy over there is the real brains of your outfit.”

Duncan, who’d been snoring softly, stirred and opened his eyes a crack. “Hmm, what’s that?” he muttered. “Time for flute lessons?”

“Or maybe not,” Rauber snickered.

“No, Duncan, we’re in the bandit camp, remember?” Liam said.

“Oh, yes, that’s right,” Duncan said glumly. “I tried something dumb and ruined everything. My luck is gone. I remember now. So, Liam, you were saying…”

“I was just trying to get the attention of the runny-nosed baby over there who likes to play bad guy,” Liam sneered at Rauber.

“What’s with all the insults?” the Bandit King snapped. “What are you playing at?”

“He’s tryin’ to make you angry, sir,” Horace advised. “You sure you don’t want me to punch ’im? I got a pretty big arm span—I can probably sock both of these princes in the face at the same time.”

“Might as well go ahead,” Duncan moped. “I’m sure any swing you take at me will land good and hard, since I’ve got no luck left.”

“No, Deeb, I’m not trying to make you angry,” Liam said. “I’m calling it like I see it. The same way your big man Horace does.”

Horace raised his eyebrows.

“Okay, Prince, I’ll bite. But only because I’m curious to see where this is all going,” Rauber said. “What are you saying about Horace?”

“Oh, just that he understands you’re nothing more than a weaselly little brat,” Liam said. “You should hear the way he talks about you to the other bandits—saying how ridiculous it is that they’re working for a child…” Several of the bandits gasped.

“… laughing at all those grown men who are frightened of a little boy,” Liam went on, “joking about how easily he could crush you if he ever wanted to…”

Horace broke into a panicky sweat. “It’s not true, sir. He’s making it all up.”

Rauber gave Horace a hard kick in the ankle. “You know, I
thought
I heard the puppy-dog-tails song outside my tent last night,” Rauber screeched. “I figured I must have imagined it, because no one would be
idiotic
enough to sing that song at my camp. You traitorous buffoon!” He kicked Horace twice more, the big man wincing with each blow. The Bandit King’s strikes didn’t hurt Horace, but the big man knew full well what it meant to be on the wrong end of one of Deeb Rauber’s tantrums.

“That wasn’t me,” Horace cried. “It was Neville!”

“Yeah, right! Neville faints if I flick a booger in his direction. He doesn’t have the guts for treason,” Rauber retorted. “
You’re
the one who thinks he’s better than me—
meaner
than me. I’ll show you who’s mean. I’ll hang you up by your back hair!”

Duncan was perking up. He was inspired watching the way Liam was manipulating Rauber.
He’s a master
, Duncan realized.
He’s a planner, a doer, a man of action. Liam doesn’t rely on luck. Liam
creates
his own luck
.

Fig. 40 DEEB RAUBER

“Hey, kid,” Liam shouted, eager to pile on. “I’ve got an idea. Instead of beating up on your henchman yourself, why don’t you make him fight me? I’m sure a bullying brat like you would get a kick out of seeing the two of us pummel each other.”

“Oh, hey, that’s a fantastic idea!” Rauber declared, dripping with over-the-top sarcasm. “I’ll untie you and put a weapon in your hand—nothing could go wrong with that idea! It’s not like you’ve ever escaped from me before by suggesting a duel!” He ran over to the tied-up Liam and glared up at him. “I AM NOT STUPID!”

“What was that?” Liam said casually. “You’re so short. I can’t hear you all the way down there.”

Furious, Rauber marched off to the crowd, grabbed a random bandit by the sleeve, and dragged him back to Liam’s tree. Rauber shoved the bandit down onto his hands and knees and stepped up onto the henchman’s back so he could get nose-to-nose with the prince.