49: Never Say Goodbye to Doctor Feelgood

  "You survived by sending the thought of rhubarb into the monster's head?" Kim was salivating despite her gut wound. She liked rhubarb.

  "Yes!" Damon said proudly. "All by myself."

  He looked taller to Kim. His outfit was shinier, and the Screaming Eagle Staff glowed brighter. Even his eyebrows were at an angle that accented his newfound intelligence. In fact, now that he had better hair, he was edging towards being grand and majestic. "Yes, I saved us with pie. Funny how many times pie has been important in this world."

  Fiora sighed. "I miss being in the Mot?rkraken's … what did you call it?"

  "Digestive sac," Damon replied.

  "Yes, the food holding sack of the Mot?rkraken." Fiora's eyes glazed over as she looked off to the west, perhaps toward the creature. "Such a perfect eating sack. So warm. And… warm. I never wanted to say goodbye to it. It was better than seeing Doctor Feelgood from Crüeham. It was my sweet leaf."

  "Is she high?" Kim asked.

  "I think sweet leaf is something that makes you high and happy," Damon said. "And being inside that digestive sac is very much like being, well, perfectly full of absolute bliss." Fiora was still staring to the west. "Anyway, I passed out from the effort of fighting the Mot?rkraken. But the Notes of Power brought me back to full health. So many of them." He looked at his fingers, and a few sparks flashed between them.

  "You missed the part where I tried to crawl back inside the glorious, beautiful digesting sac." Fiora sounded wistful. "I'm kind of ashamed of that. But it was the only time I felt accepted. And fully a part of something bigger than me."

  "Oh," Kim said. "That's very sad."

  "Anyway," Damon said. "Fiora bravely—"

  "I like how you tell this story," Fiora interrupted.

  "Yes, you bravely flew me away, and we escaped, and now we are here."

  He lifted his staff, and suddenly six strings appeared on it, and he played a few chords.

  "It's your first six-string!" Fiora said. "Don't play it until your fingers bleed! Also, I have a headache, so don't play it at all."

  "Sure, sure," Damon said. The strings vanished, but his fingers kept moving along it of their own accord. "I may have been playing too much on the flight over. Anyway, the entire experience was quite a rush. Maybe that's why I don't miss being inside the digestive sac."

  "Well, that's an amazing story." Kim wasn't sure she understood it all.

  Fiora pointed over her shoulder with a claw. "Climbing the wall was a stupid plan. Blayre knew about the thorns, and he loves seeing others in pain."

  "Should we work our way into the palace?" Kim asked. "A guard could come along at any time. I need to bandage this wound." She looked down. "Why has my wound healed?"

  "Because King Fidds is stupidly kind," Fiora said. "The wound from the Wall of Every Rose Has Its Thorn will heal if the wounded is a light bearer. Not so helpful for me."

  The pain was already down to a minor irritation. "Well, that's interesting," Kim said.

  "He's strange that way. Though he didn't have any pity for the war pigs. But, well, that was war, and they were war pigs."

  "Oh, I see," Kim said.

  "I saw a guard further along the wall," Damon said. "We might want to move." Kim was surprised at how easy it was to walk now. Her hands had healed. All in all, she decided this was a very kind defense system.

  They snuck along the walkway and down the stairs without anyone shouting at them to halt. The buildings below were disappointing. Since it was a palace, she'd expected to see gold walls studded with emeralds. Or impressive stonework. Instead, the collection of structures were domes of earth, with trees growing around them and, sometimes, through them. This was nothing like any royal place she had ever imagined.

  "That's the palace?" Damon said.

  "This is not a land of treasure." Fiora pointed. "That's the Headbangers Ballad Ballroom."

  The only thing that differentiated the Headbangers Ballad Ballroom from the other mounds was that it was taller and bigger. Balladrians were walking out the open door, either leading their livestock or clutching a plant. Each of them looked happy.

  "Daytime is not the best time to sneak into a palace and kill a king," Fiora said.

  "Blayre felt like he was in a hurry," Kim said.

  "Tonight, the two moons cross," Fiora said as they followed the path toward the ballroom. "When the moon of metal and the moon of hard rock are in alignment, then metal purity is at its strongest. And that matters to Blayre and his magic. Now, just pretend we are supposed to be here. Be friendly." One balladrian couple on the path was holding baskets of reddish fruits that had perhaps just been blessed by the king. Their smiles faded when they looked over at Kim and her companions.

  She glanced to see what had disturbed them and saw the most frightening thing she had ever seen: Fiora was smiling. It reminded her of pictures of serial killers. Or Tom Cruise. It was not natural.

  The couple took another path. "Maybe don't do that?" Damon said.

  "Do what?" Fiora said.

  "That thing you're doing with your face."

  "Smiling?" Fiora asked.

  "Oh, is that what that is? I thought maybe you were on the edge of a psychotic break."

  "I don't know what this psychotic breaking is, but I assume it's an insult," Fiora said.

  "You're scaring the people," Kim added with a whisper.

  "That's their fault." She widened her smile enough to show gums, and a few chunks of meat between her teeth. But then pursed her lips, hiding her teeth. "I am going for more of an 'I am aloof and I sadly have to spend time with spawners' look. Is it working?"

  It's perfect." Kim said. "Do you have a plan?"

  Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

  Fiora nodded. "Of course! We will approach the Headbangers Ballad Ballroom and will wait in line to meet the king, and then some things will happen."

  "Some things will happen?" Kim said.

  "That is as specific as I can get. That we have made it this far is a miracle of sorts. So we should not be too frightened or surprised if we are caught and executed now."

  "Will he execute us?" Damon asked.

  "Of course," Fiora said. "And we will be composted, since King Fidds doesn't like to waste things. So let us not get caught."

  And with that, they entered the Headbangers Ballad Ballroom.

  50 The Temple of the King

  The line to see King Fidds was not as long as Kim had expected. In movies, guards and symbols of power would surround a king. But here, there were only twelve people remaining in line and no visible guards. One sturdy oak tree held the inside of the ballroom up with branches reaching through the ceiling. Ferns grew next to benches of stone. It gave the impression that, as long as there was a sun in the sky, the Headbangers Ballad Ballroom might last forever.

  Several of the Balladrians were holding plants that looked to be covered by a black fungus. One thin woman clutched a skinny, motionless lamb.

  At the front of the room, blocking the view of the king and his throne, stood a forty-something woman. She was speaking to one supplicant, which might mean there was an interview process before they met Fidds. The woman had a pointed, smallish hat on top of long blondish-grey hair and wore a green leather half-jacket studded with metal—metal stud makers must be the richest people in Metaloria. An oversized black leather belt with a snakehead buckle hugged her hips, looping through the loops of her very comfortable-looking, almost jean-like pants. There were two guards in a distant doorway, both in brownish-green armor and projecting friendliness as they leaned on their long-bladed spear-like poles.

  The woman held a twisty wooden staff close to her mouth and announced, "The next citizen of Balladria to receive audience is J?sh of Paradise City. And his hen, Henrietta."

  She stepped back to reveal the king and the throne. The throne itself had grown out of the earthen floor, a collection of branches and leaves in the form of an impressive chair with a tall back. The man sitting in the chair didn't have any royal robes on or a crown; instead, he was in a jerkin that was stained with mud. His hair had twigs in it. So did his thick beard. He looked like a handsome gardener who'd taken a moment to rest from his labors in the chair.

  "He dresses like he's in Led Zeppelin," Damon said.

  "King Fidds is not full of pomp or pretty things," Fiora said. "An attractive aspect in a man."

  "I don't like pretty things either," Damon whispered.

  "So, you don't like me?" Fiora asked.

  "Uh, no. I mean, yes," he muttered. "I think I'll be shutting up now."

  Fiora gave Kim a tap on the shoulder. "He is such a curious spawner, isn't he, Kim?"

  "Yes, curious," Kim said. "I'm also curious about that." She pointed.

  Hanging above the king's head, on what Kim assumed was an invisible string, was a black and white V-shaped guitar.

  "It looks just a Gibson Flying V!" Damon said.

  "It's the legendary Schenkeraxe," Fiora said. "Fidds is the greatest guitarist in Metaloria. He is one with the metal. He used that guitar to help Gene Thunderer defeat the white-coated wizard D?s-K?, who tried to kill the metal of our land with strange danceable music. Again, I have already mentioned this great battle, but I know you have brains of mush. We will have to be sure Fidds doesn't touch that guitar when we make our move."

  "Speaking of making a move," Kim said. "There are only two guards. And the woman announcing things."

  "There are also two soldiers in the shadows of the tree," Fiora said. "But you are correct; there isn't a vast collection of guards. He doesn't need them."

  "Emily of Sweet, approach," said the woman beside the heap of a throne. She had a pleasant voice.

  Emily took two steps and held the lamb out to Fidds without even a curtsy. "Emily, how may your humble king, a servant of this land, help you?"

  "An illness possesses my flock," she replied, not at all seeming nervous to be in front of the king. "It is affecting their bleating, and their tongues loll, and they don't eat."

  King Fidds nodded as she spoke. "So this one is the black sheep of the family, is he?" Then he reached out and touched the head of the lamb who at first didn't move or react, then the king opened his mouth. And he sang:

  "Beep beep I'm a sheep

  I said beep beep I'm a sheep

  Yeah, now some of you might be wondering

  How exactly does one beep beep like a sheep?"

  Kim remembered 'Beep Beep I'm a Sheep' becoming popular on YouTube several years earlier, and the catchy tune was still beeping inside her head. That the king knew this song, which was almost modern, was perhaps the most shocking aspect of the scene. She knew it because her uncle would sing it whenever they drove by the Happy Lamb Hot Pot restaurant.

  The lamb slowly shook its tiny head and let out a very vigorous bleat, then hopped out of her arms into the arms of the king. "Did he just resurrect a lamb?" Damon whispered.

  "Shush," Fiora said.

  King Fidds patted the lamb and set it down. It leaned against his legs. "The simple truth within that song is healing. Take this little rogue back to your farm, and the others will soon shake off their blight. I will send my Herdswoman Tan-?ya to find the source. May the fates rock you gently." The woman nodded, said a quiet thanks, and her lamb followed her out of the palace.

  "Duff of O'Mine," the woman beside the king announced. A man holding a plant strode up to the king. Fidds gave him a grand smile.

  "This guy is too nice for a beheading," Damon whispered.

  "No one is too nice for a beheading," Fiora replied. "Especially when it is a choice between your head exploding or a quick, painless beheading for someone else."

  "How do you know it's painless?" Kim asked.

  "No one ever complains later," Fiora said. "So it is painless." She tapped her temple. "That's logic." Fiora watched as the plant in the man's hands came back to life. He kissed it. "But one might feel a moment of guilt."

  Kim would certainly feel guilt for much longer than a moment. She also touched the necklace, which tightened threateningly around her throat. "Well," she said. "Do we have a plan?"

  "Yes, we will distract him, and you will cut off his head," Fiora said.

  "Me?" Kim said.

  "You're the only one with a blade. This was my plan all along. I didn't tell you because I didn't want you to consider it overlong. The more you spawners think, the weaker you get."

  "But I—"

  "Theo of Love Bites Mountain Village," the woman beside the king said, loud enough to interrupt. Another man with another plant approached the king, which meant they were getting closer. It only took a moment to bless the plant.

  "You are not on the guest list," the woman said. She had beautiful hair, Kim decided. "Who are you, and why are you here?"

  Fiora pushed Damon so that he was first in line. He looked above the woman's head, took in a breath, then glanced above the king and sucked in the first of a series of deep breaths. "That's not possible," he whispered. Then he fell to his knees.

  "Oh, great and mighty Fidds of the land of Balladria," Damon said. "I am a humble traveler from beyond, and I throw myself at your feet and beg you for… for the answer to an animal friendship problem."

  King Fidds raised his hand. "Stand. You are obviously a stranger since we don't allow bowing in Balladria. Especially not to a king! What is your name?"

  "Damon," he said.

  "Damon of where?"

  "Damon of… of IronMaidenville."

  "Ironmaidenville?" the king repeated. "I admit I've never heard of this place. Is it a tiny village?"

  "It is far away, across great stretches of land and water. But it's a nice place. Great music. Lots of people live there. Like Steve. And Bruce and Nicko and Eddie and…"

  The king held up his hand.

  "I shall ask for an accounting of all the villagers later. Now, what is this animal friendship problem?"

  Damon sighed somewhat overdramatically. "My dragonspawn is no longer friendly."

  Fiora let out a surprised cough, and King Fidds immediately released a low rumble of a chuckle that grew into a friendly, toothsome laugh. Kim thought it would be so awful to cut off his head and end that laugh. It was a laugh that belonged in this universe. Wherever this universe was. "I cannot aid you in growing the friendliness of a dragonspawn," the king said with mock sadness. "They choose their own friends. I would never wield a spell to compel one of our winged wonders. The often misunderstood dragonspawn."

  "That is kind of you, King Fidds," Fiora said. She sounded as if she meant it. "I am Fiora of Wherever I Am Standing. As you know, we have lost our land."

  "That was a sad tragedy and betrayal that should be put right," he said. "And who is your final traveling companion?"

  "Oh." Fiora waved a paw dismissively. "She is a somewhat useful spawner by the name of—"

  "Kim," a voice shouted from the door behind the king. "Kim!"

  A large man in plate armor and a hood rushed into the room. His bulk looked familiar. He was followed by a thin man in black flowing robes, who also was shouting, "Kim! Kim!" in a high-pitched voice.

  The large man ploughed right up to them and pulled back his hood.

  Kim drew in a breath. "Uncle Gord!" she exclaimed.

  Uncle Gord grinned like a madman. The thin man behind him also threw back his hood. He was unfamiliar to Kim, but he shouted out, "Kim!" again, as if he didn't want to miss the moment.

  She looked back at Uncle Gord and asked him the question she most wanted to ask: "Why on earth did you take me to that stupid Anvil concert?"