MDS Ch. 7: A battle for life and freedom

I waited for a long time. I figured that my captor was by now very suspicious. However, when she came in I knew I’d have the advantage – my eyes were by now very well adjusted to the darkness, enough that I felt I could reliably shoot an arrow. I was worried that Jarrod had left me only five, but it was no good dwelling on that now. I started making little plans for every possible contingency.

For instance, I made a plan for if she hit one of the two traps, if she managed to avoid them both, or if they didn’t work. And I waited. Finally, after an hour or two I heard the gruff voice of my captor yelling, and a few minutes later I saw her approach. I saw her notice the pressure pad and gingerly step over it. She had entered the main part of the room, the one that was in my full view but she was still looking around to see me.

“I know you’re in here you little rat, and when I find you, I’ll eat you! Forget the ransom, you’re not worth it. Now it’s personal!” She let out a roar, but no flame. She must have been worried about setting off the trap.

Meanwhile, I silently knocked an arrow and drew back, aiming not for the dragon, but for the second pressure plate, the one that would send spikes flying through her. I closed my eyes and prayed then opened them, checked my aim, and let fly.

The arrow flew true, whizzing right past the dragon and hitting the plate with enough force to set the trap in motion. The dragon immediately took in what had happened and panicked. When she saw the spikes poke out, she jumped backwards out of the room, avoiding the second trap, but, in her hurry, setting off the first. Unfortunately the spikes blocked some of the shards, but some still got in her eyes, because I heard her screaming. Then I began to hear monstrous thumps from behind me.

“I’ll collapse this whole cave on you!” she yelled, “What do you think of that? So clever now, your highness?”

Rocks had begun to fall. I dropped down from my hiding place to see the dragon, luckily facing away from me, thumping her tail against the cave wall. I readied another arrow to fire at the “sweet spot” in the back of her neck and fired. I missed her entirely, but she turned around and saw me. Or sort of saw me. I could tell she was partially blinded by the shards of metal, some of which were still sticking out of her monstrous eyes. She lunged at me, but I rolled out of the way into the tiny crawlspace I had found before. I escaped, but she’d nicked me with her claws. I was bleeding. As I tied a torn piece of my dress around my waist, I instantly realized this hiding place was a mistake. She could toast me alive in here and I’d have no escape.

So, as the confused dragon swept the outside tunnel with fire, I ran back into the main room to look for a way to deflect the flame. I noticed that the wooden ladder had fallen down and splintered into pieces. I grabbed one of the long planks, and brought the end (which was a good ten feet away from me) into the dragon’s flame. The minute she stopped flaming I rammed the torch on a stick into her face. It didn’t damage her much, but, coming out of nowhere in her blindness, it did confuse her for a while. Long enough for me to drag the ejected spikes crosswise across the side opening of the crawl space. If I sat near the whole where the spike had originally been, I had enough space to pull back and I could shoot my last three arrows with immunity. I knocked one and drew.

The dragon had recovered from her distraction and was now actively seeking me out. She was walking right toward me. She was walking down the wall, carefully peering at the crawl space, until she reached my hiding place. I saw her eyes clearly now, and saw that one was nearly filled with shards, but the other was working fine.

Before she could do anything, I let an arrow fly into her good eye. She screamed in pain. She blindly reached toward me, found the spikes with her hand and tossed them aside, almost hitting me with their points on the way out. To evade them I had to back into the alcove the pikes had come from. Then it was just me with nowhere to run and she knew it.

“Do I get my one chance to surrender?” I asked hopefully, putting down my bow and readying my knife.

“Like hell,” she replied.

“Then let me give you yours!” I screamed. Somehow, I scrambled over her head and made it to her neck. I drove the knife down into the spot between the scales. She screamed again, an agonizing scream.

“Do you surrender?” I asked, but she didn’t, or couldn’t respond. Thinking only of survival, I drove the knife upward, into her brain. Her scream ended and she twitched, dead. I looked down at the wound in my side that I hadn’t much noticed up until then and realized there was an awful lot of blood. Then everything went black.

Lucky Number Seven (II)

'Well damn.' I thought. Now I was in the middle of nowhere, and I'd lost the game. In fact, I couldn't imagine doing worse at the game, except possibly by accidentally boarding number 8. I sat down on the bench and sighed. Nothing to do but wait for another train I supposed. Or...
I glanced over to the old woman, who had just now made it to the door to the station. Finally I acknowledged what had been lurking in the back of my mind. I could still follow her. And the game could go on. It would be tricky in a ghost town like this one, but it certainly could be done. There were a couple of different doors from the platform to the station, so I walked through another one and saw a phone booth inside. There wasn't a whole lot inside besides a ticket desk - an oddity in and of itself, as automatic vending machines were the fad - and the phone booth, but I figured I could pretend to make a phone call while I waited for her to make the long (at her pace) trek across the station.
Or I could actually make a phone call. To work. To tell them I was sick or something. That was probably a good idea, I realized.
I put in a quarter, dialed work and put in my boss's extension. The woman was about a quarter of the way there. My boss picked up. I told him I wasn't feeling at all well and that I'd decided not to come into work. The woman was halfway through the station. He thanked me for calling in and hoped I felt better, than asked if I might look over the Prollit proposition while I was home. She had reached the ticket desk. I said it was no problem (after all, I had my briefcase with me - I'd been planning to go to work that morning) and that I'd see him tomorrow. She had stopped to exchange pleasantries with the ticket salesman. He said good bye and we hung up our phones. She was still chatting with the man at the counter. I decided to run across the station and make like I was late for something, than watch the door from outside. I played my part well, but I felt like I was out of place with the suit and the briefcase. Still, if the two noticed me at all it was with a passing glance. When I got outside I sat down at a bench, got out my newspaper, and waited for her to emerge from the door. It appeared that the only thing one could do after getting off the train here was wait for a bus to get to town, so a bench was handy.
I waited and waited. Ten minutes later she apparently had not concluded her conversation.
Perhaps she bought another ticket and went to wait for another train. Or perhaps she and the ticket seller were close personal friends. Or lovers. I recoiled from the grotesque mental image.
I reached for the door and then stepped back. My first scenario was by far the most likely, and were it true I would need to go back in and catch that train. But I couldn't shake the last scenario from my mind, and the thought of walking in on the two of them was enough to keep me from going in. Paralyzed with indecision, I finally walked back through the door, to find... no one. The desk was empty, with a "Gone to lunch" sign on it, and the woman was nowhere in sight. What now? And how could I even go home if no one was selling tickets? I looked around and saw no one in the station.
My wonderings were interrupted by the sound of a car starting up. As I rushed back outside, I saw a small old Honda accord driving off. I recognized the driver as the ticket salesman from his old-style fedora hat, and the form next to him could only be my elderly target.
As I broke into a run after the rickety old car, my mind raced with the implications of the scene. Why would the ticket seller leave work, with no one covering for him, to give this woman a ride somewhere? And where were they going?
Luckily, wherever it was, they were traveling their at AARP* speed, and I was actually able to keep up with the car on the dusty country road. Calling a cab was out of the question though, given the remoteness of wherever the hell we were, and I knew I wouldn't be able to keep pace forever. Also, they would almost certainly notice me in the rear view mirror if they hadn't already. Basically, if they didn't stop soon I was in trouble.
But things looked good! They had turned into a town, if it could be called that. I stopped to catch my breath and found it difficult to start again. I had winded my self more than I realized at the time. I looked down and saw that the bottom of my suit was coated with dust. I looked up again and didn't see the car. As I started walking down the street I was surprised to find that I wasn't panicked about losing them. In fact, I really didn't care that much. The game wasn't turning out to be so much fun. I noticed I was walking by a cafe and decided to go in. I ordered a cup of coffee, then sat down by the window and got out the Prollit proposal. As far as I was concerned, Lucky Number Seven had been a failure. I can't say I was surprised.

___________________________________________
*American Association of Retired People

Mortimer at Mindor II

"Defense I need but not from arms,
Tis words that seek to do me harm.
Come now he that passed the bar,
Let not my wife have kids and car.
Let not my inheritance be lost,
Let those who wronged me pay the cost.
Let not my contract be in breach,
Help me, lawyer, I beseech."

As Mortimer read these last words off the scroll, the ground shook. A appeared, glowing white-hot. Soon it became larger, the size of a doorway, and a young man in a gray suit walked out. He wore a gray tie with a III on it.
"Hello," he said, "Steven Shelly, Offices of Penütt, Budder, & Shelly."
Mortimer gave him an incredulous look.
"You were expecting Penütt, weren't you? I'm sorry, I'm the junior partner and the only Lawyer III at the firm - you did summon a level three lawyer, right?"
"I did." He turned to the hellish receptionist. "May I have a moment alone with the contract and my legal consul?"
She rolled her eyes and slapped her desk, causing a wall of fire to spring up between her and Mortimer.
"I need you to find a loophole in this," he yelled over the roaring flames, handling Shelley the contract.
"A loophole?"
"I want to be able to sign it, but not be condemned to hell."
"I'll take a look. This might take a while."
"I don't have a while!"
The lawyer looked up frustratedly.
"Look, sir, I'm trying, but you realize this contract came from HELL. They've got a lot of lawyers there. Really good ones. This is likely to be airtight."
"Damn!" he said, flinging his hands up in the air. "I'll just sign the damn thing!"
The fire wall went down.
"Very good, dear," said the receptionist as Mortimer signed his soul away, "I hope you find what you're looking for."
"You can go!" Mortimer said to the lawyer as he handed the paper over. Steven wordlessly disappeared.
As soon as the receptionist took the paper, the ground shook severely. As Mortimer staggered to keep his footing, the air shimmered in the center of the shrine. Soon the demon and her desk began to distort like a rippled pool, and were finally sucked into the disturbance. And when the fiery desk went in, it ripped open the gateway. It was as if a deep molten chasm had opened up, but in the air rather than the ground. As the eerie corridor shimmered before him, a deep voice spoke from within:

Welcome To Hell.

MDS Ch. 6 - The plan revitalized

Before I had figured out much of anything, I was confronted by an ugly dilemma. A few nights had passed, and I had finally learned to sleep here successfully and relatively peacefully, when I was awakened by a thrash from the dragon’s tail. A light one, and nothing harmful, but startling enough to wake me up.

“Hey Princess,” she said, “Looks like your first lover boy’s here to rescue you.”

I was disoriented by lack of sleep, and it took me a second to realize what she was getting at. Lover boy? Was Jarrod here? I wasn’t expecting him for a few more days, though I wasn’t exactly sure where here was. Then I realized she was talking about a knight. I walked over to the mouth of the cave where she was waiting. I had never before worn the same clothes for so long and I felt gross. I realized it was a good thing I was not one of those prissy princesses. At least I’d had dried meat before; it wasn’t a shock to my system.

Anyway, I saw the knight riding over the hill toward the cave. There was no mistaking a knight’s silhouette – the standard, the armor, the feather on the head, the noble steed. It could be Jarrod, I realized. He did say he would borrow armor if he went with plan B, but as he approached I realized it was not. He was a big man, tough and self-assured looking. I rejoiced seeing his size and apparent prowess, thinking he might rescue me, but then I realized that would mean marrying him and that prospect did not excite me. He looked like a big brute; the prospect of being with him was terrifying to me.

This was the ugly dilemma. When a fight began, I didn’t know whom to root for. I mean, I had to pretend to root for the knight, but inside I just didn’t know. I certainly didn’t want him to die – he was just doing what he thought was right. He fancied himself my hero probably, and thought I would be grateful and throw myself into his arms.

“Alright, well I’m going to go kill him, but don’t fret honey, I promise I’ll give him a chance to give up with his life. At least, if it’s not too much trouble to me.”

She laughed humorlessly and took off, to face the knight on the ground. I noticed that the space in front of the cave made for a nice little arena. I also realized at that point how hopeless the prospect of Jarrod “sneaking in” seemed. In front of the cave, we were so high up that we could easily see a visitor from any direction and from far enough away that the cover of darkness wouldn’t last long enough for him to get in and out. From the back, sharp rocks and treacherous slopes prevented any approach. I sighed.

Below me, the battle was beginning. The knight yelled out something that I couldn’t hear from up here. The dragon responded with what I assumed was a smart remark and proceeded to breath a huge flower of flame, which the knight mostly deflected with his shield. He laughed confidently, then proceeded to ride with surprising swiftness in a wide arc around the beast. As he rode he sheathed his sword and pulled out what looked like a crossbow. No- a repeating crossbow. He fired off about ten shots in fifteen seconds all around the dragon’s body, a seemingly odd move since her armor would certainly deflect them, however his motive became obvious. While she dodged the bolts, he cut a hard right and switched from his arc movement to riding straight at the dragon, whilst re-equipping his sword.

Unfortunately, she incinerated the arrows with a burst of flame that came right up to where he was riding. The knight, unfazed, jumped over the flame with his horse – it was an impressive bit of riding. I thought the horse was going to land on the dragon’s head, and found myself rooting for him in spite of myself. However, at the last minute the dragon sidestepped and he landed instead alongside her. But his ploy had worked, he was close enough to get in with his sword. Dismounting, he rolled under the dragon and moved to stab up directly into her soft underbelly.

It didn’t work. I couldn’t see exactly, but it looked like his leg got caught in the stirrup on his dismount and he didn’t have the momentum to roll enough and ended up face down instead of face up. Before he could rectify this, he was pinned under the dragon’s massive foot while she devoured his horse. I was horrified, but I wanted to see more clearly what happened next. I started to climb down the slope. Finally, after spitting out the saddle, she let him up, still gripping him, and held him up to her face.

“Drop the sword and bow and run home, and you can live,” I could just barely here her say.

He nodded pathetically and she dropped him, but he did not drop his weapons. Instead, he yelled defiantly, “The day I surrender to a dragon will be the day I –” but he didn’t get to finish his sentence because he was engulfed in flame, cooked in his own armor. Shortly thereafter, he was eaten, pried out of his armor like a lobster from its shell. I looked away in disgust, and soon I heard the dragon’s voice.

“Coming down for a closer look?” she asked.

I had nothing to say in response.

“I gave him the chance,” she said, “But things are tough all over. I don’t relish doing that.”

My captor and I didn’t speak at all for the next several days. I was numb with the shock of what I’d experienced, and she was perhaps a little ashamed. I realized I was in this to save lives like his, too. Bold and noble and filled with chivalry and dreams of honor, they didn’t deserve to die like that. And I was even in it to save the dragons, though it disgusted me to think it, from a life they were ashamed to live but had to. If I escaped this system and beat it, I felt like I would begin to bring about its demise. Perhaps other princesses would follow my lead, and a revolution would follow. Of course, only if I succeeded.

I decided to give plan A one more go. One day, I acted even sadder than usual. I didn’t eat or drink or move, and, when the dragon didn’t even notice, I tore the bottom of my dress and tied it into a noose. Finally the dragon took notice.

“Oh for the love of – Why would you go and kill yourself.”

In response, I merely began to sob.

“Oh for pity’s sake – what’s wrong? Talk to me!” She seemed panicked, and why not? After all, if I died, her jig was up and she was in some trouble.

Finally I spoke.

“This is the anniversary of my uncle’s death,” I lied. “Every year since I was a child I’ve gone to visit his grave on this day and brought him flowers. Every year but this one. His spirit will think I’ve forsaken him!” I cried even more. I didn’t expect her to buy this, but I thought the guilt she already felt might be enough to get her help.

She just rolled her massive reptilian eyes and walked back to her nest. I kept crying, and finally she spoke.

“How far is it?” she asked flatly.

“I… I don’t really know how far. I don’t know where we are.”

“How far from your castle then?”

“About a day’s ride East,” I said.

“Alright, here’s the deal,” said the dragon, “I take you to pay respects to your uncle’s bones, if you promise that after that you will not cry again, at all, while you’re with me.”

“Okay,” I said, drying my tears, “I can do that I think.”

“Or mope.”

“Or mope,” I agreed.

So we set out, flying through the sky. I thought perhaps it was too late, that Jarrod had already left for the other cave, but there was simply no way to know. I focused on trying to give adequate directions. I had spent some time with Jarrod studying a map so I could find the place from the air, but the world looked quite different from the map. However, my frustration didn’t hurt my story – I would have been just as frustrated trying to find my uncle’s grave from the air. By and by, after nearly 6 hours flight, we set down outside what I desperately hoped was the right cave. I looked around for Jarrod or the bow, but I saw nothing. I also saw no machinery inside the cave.

“Your uncle is interred in a cave?” asked the dragon disbelievingly.

“This is where he passed away. He was a bit of a hermit later in life.”

“Well, go on in,” she said, “I’ll wait out here.”

Damn! I thought to myself. I needed to stay out and she needed to go in. But it was too late to make that happen now. Maybe, I thought, If I went in and stayed in she’d come in after me, thinking there was a back entrance to the cave or something. Maybe there even was. Anyway, I reasoned, in order to get in and out to build and arm the trap, Jarrod and his friends must have built in a way for humans to get in and out without triggering anything. If this was the right cave.

I entered the cave. It was dark. The first archway was just under dragon height. I knew the trap would be triggered by a pressure plate. I waited for my eyes to adjust to the dark. It seemed to take an eternity, but eventually I was able to make out the crude machinery. There was a large sheet of metal across the bottom of the cave. I sighed in relief. I also saw a ledge along the side, just big enough for me to crawl through, that would let me bypass the plate. I climbed over it and emerged on the other side. I realized I’d be right in the way of the blinding shrapnel if I waited here. There was nowhere else to go, and there was no sign of Jarrod or a hidden bow. This would have to be me, the trap, and my knife. I went back to crawl space and noticed the giant spike lurking in it. I couldn’t hide here safely, either. Finally, I looked up and saw a ledge above the whole thing. The perfect place to hide safely, if I could get there.

Climbing the machinery was risky, since I could be thoroughly dead if I set it off. Climbing up the rock wall, however, was beyond my skill. Then I noticed a rickety wooden ladder and sighed in relief, silently thanking Jarrod. I climbed up to the small space, which offered a perfect view of the trap, and found, hiding away up there, a bow and five arrows. I picked it up and waited.

TNT: Ch. 62

When Gina arrived at the hotel room at 1:35 a.m., she expected to find Eric asleep, but feared she might find him awake and sulking. For this reason, she had bid Sam (who graciously gave her a ride home) goodbye in the hotel lobby. They had exchanged some awkward words about having a good time and possibly doing it again, and hugged briefly (and also a bit awkwardly). Gina felt proud of herself - despite a few uncomfortable moments she felt she'd handled her first real date rather well. And she had high hopes for a second.
What she didn't expect to find was Eric and Master Lin, both awake and awaiting her.
"Gina, it is good to finally see you. Have you learned many secrets this evening?" asked the Master.
"I've learned some things," she replied.
"You were gone a long time," Eric pointed out.
"We went to a bar after dinner," she said, "Talked some more. What were you doing at the restaurant?"
Eric paused, surprised by the question. "I... I wanted to make sure you were ok is all."
"I told you I could handle it, Eric. A little trust would be nice."
"I almost lost you in Maine," Eric replied. "Maybe I'm not eager to lose you in Florida."
"Eric, in Maine I was drugged!" Gina nearly shouted, "You know this is different! And though I know you may not like it, I'm not yours to lose! So you're mad that I went on a date with Sam! And that's what it was, a date. Well, when were YOU going to ask me on a date Eric? When?"
Eric was silent, and the two glared at each other across the room for what felt like a full minute.
Finally Master Lin spoke.
"There is much of anger between you and much of love, but these are not my concern. You may not know it, but you are putting yourselves where the quest needs you to be. If we are close enough to each side, then whomever wins, we win also. Gina is doing her part with Sam, and you are doing your part with the State. But there is another player no one has seen: the other diver. Eric, I will take over with Mr. Begonia. Tomorrow, you will find James Brixon. And perhaps you will find more there then a way to the springs. Now let us all sleep, blissfully free from operatic interruption."

TNT Appendix

The Springs of Life: A Primer

In this last section of the toaster story, I've introduced a number of new characters all at once, and I've done it over the course of a long time. A number of my faithful readers are doubtless confused, so before tomorrow's outline I'd like to take a minute to clear things up.

The Discoverers (One side of the legal battle, claiming rights to the springs because they found them)
Sam Stalwart - A young, attractively built lawyer. Young, successful, and charming, Sam is one of two divers who discovered the springs, the other being James Brixon. Sam is taking the case, not entirely pro-bono. Sam seems to have a romantic interest in Gina, and has not hit it off spectacularly with Eric.

James Brixon - The other discoverer. James, an electrician, is much older than Sam, pushing fifty. The two know each other from diving together for years. James makes a decent amount of money, but has a family to support:

Connie Brixon - James's supportive wife, who nonetheless questions the importance of the springs.

Lily Brixon, 17 , Teddy Brixon, 8, and Chase Brixon, 3 - James and Connie's children.

The Government (The other side, claiming ownership because the springs were on park grounds)

Mysterious figure - The mysterious man wears a trench coat and meets in secret with Melissa Hastings. His "superiors" are paying for the lawyers for the state.

Melissa Hastings - The DeLeon Springs State Park Park Director. Melissa is taking a lot of criticism for pushing what many believe to be an insignificant legal battle. She is doing it on behalf of the mysterious man.

John Begonia - Melissa's right hand man. Has no idea what's going on.

Currently, Sam is keeping the springs at a secret location.

Lucky Number Seven (I)

This is not a late update. I posted it on Friday, but since it was from an old draft Blogger posted it directly into the archives. Silly Blogger.
I guess I'm not really sure why I took the train that day. Certainly the idea had been floating around my head for weeks, but if you asked me why I picked that day of all days to board that train, I wouldn't know what to say. Was it the particular kind of fall chill that made me nostalgic for my childhood train rides to the country? Was it the particularly inspiring music of the street musician performing outside the station? Or was it just time, the time when you've had an idea brewing for so long that if you don't just get off your ass and do something about it right now you know you never will.
But for one reason or another, that day I did it. I got on the number seven train, the first train of the morning, with nothing in my pockets but my wallet and a hole. The game was this: on the number seven, I'd pick a person and get off at his or her stop. I would trail him or her as discreetly as possible and take careful note of his or her entire routine. After that, the details were sketchy.
You see, Lucky Number Seven, as the game was called, wasn't really my idea. I'd heard it from a friend who'd heard it from a friend, et cetera - an urban legend, my friend was sure. The game had been adapted, rumor had it, for mass transit systems across the country and it led to everything from job offers to unlikely romances, but always good luck.
Something was supposed to happen during the day, either some connection or commonality with my target or some event that would occur because I was hiding, but my life was supposed to change for the better.
I don't think I did it because I believed in it. I'm not a superstitious person.
Of course everyone says that, but then when someone says "Keep your fingers crossed," they do. When they see a penny they pick it up. We don't believe in this stuff - we just do it, just in case. That was me. And for some reason, Lucky Number Seven intrigued me. It had occupied my thoughts more and more for the past several weeks until one day, instead of taking my regular number twelve to work, I hopped on number seven. I could scarcely believe I'd done it.
My first task after I stepped onto the train was to find my target. The way I'd heard it was that one shouldn't think too hard during this part. I decided to do it randomly. Whomever was in the seventh seat from the front would be the one. I moved to about 11 seats back and sat down, counting up to the seventh seat. There was a person on each side of the aisle: an old woman in old and ragged clothing on my side of the aisle, and a beautiful young blond woman, easily six feet tall, in a short pink skirt and a gray denim jacket, on the opposite side.
The woman was the quintessential picture of hot. Her long and highly visible legs ended in a pair of silvery heels. Her hair fell down about her shoulders perfectly, pulled out of her face by a pair of expensive-looking sunglasses, that were balanced on her forehead just above her piercing green eyes with their lovely lengthy lashes. She carried an impossibly tiny handbag, had her legs crossed as she nervously glanced about the train.
I instantly knew which of the two I had to follow. Of course, I reasoned with myself, following this temptress would make the game a little less innocent and a little more... well, stalkerish, but I had, after all, chosen her randomly. More or less. Of course, part of the game was that I wasn't to actually talk to this person at any point if I chose her, but - well, it was only a silly game, and I didn't really believe in it anyway. It occurred to me that maybe my good luck had already hit and I should just abandon this silly game, sit next to this babe and strike up a conversation. Maybe get a number. It wouldn't really be quitting - perhaps I'd already won.
I was still pondering this thought when the train took off, starting slowly and quickly picking up to a deceptively break-neck pace.
Finally I couldn't bring myself to give up the game for a woman who would, in all likelihood, just shoot me down anyway. I picked up my newspaper and held it full in front of my face, musing at the fact that all I knew about trailing people came from T.V. Periodically I would peer at the woman, particularly when the train stopped, but only once was she looking my way. I smiled a small and, I hoped unmemorable, smile and quickly looked back at my paper, which I had no interest in reading.
We went that way a long time until finally, at a small town stop, a place I'd never been, the girl stood up and made her way to the platform. I resolved to wait a few seconds before getting up myself, but this was a mistake as the old woman got up before I made it past her and proceeded to move very slowly down the aisle. The train would only stay at the station a short time, and it seemed as if the woman were doing her best to make sure she didn't make her stop. Finally, I gave up, turned around and ran down the aisle that way, getting off in the back of the train.
I stepped onto the dusty platform and it was like stepping onto the set of a western. The wind howled by, blowing dust at the small station, and there was no one in sight.
A moment later, I saw the old woman descend the stairs from the front of the car. The young woman was nowhere to be found. Looking back at the train, I saw her sit down in her seat. But she had gotten up... She must have gone to the bathroom at the front of the car, I realized. The old woman and my anxiety had distracted me, and I hadn't actually watched to see if she was disembarking. I turned back and ran for the door, but the train was already moving again, headed for God knows where.

MDS Ch. 5: Enter the Dragon

I'm really burning through this buffer of mine...

So I thrust and parried and shot and knitted and plucked (albeit only a little of the last two, for show) and got very cold while I waited like an idiot in a pretty pink dress with the windows open. The dress was at least fairly warm as it was getting toward late fall and I didn’t know when I might be gone for a while. I had my knife on me any time I didn’t have it out, as well as some snake jerky from the kitchens. Mother would kill me if she knew I had snake jerky (a foul peasant’s food by her reckoning) in my nice dress, but I fancied I might want a snack at some point and would want my strength if it came to a fight.

After a few days I started to wonder if the dragon was even coming. I also started to wish that the mystery man from my story were real, because he really was pretty dreamy, and given the choice I would have preferred a window visit from him to one from the dragon. Unfortunately, I reminded myself, he wasn’t real. I had invented him. Not so with the dragon.

A few times my sister came to visit me in my tower, but other than that I was mostly lonely. The last time she came, I guess I sensed somehow that the end was coming.

“Ariadne,” I said, getting her attention for sure with her full name, “I think this is it.”

“You mean…?” she asked with trepidation.

“Even if it’s not soon, you know I could disappear at any moment. I’m pretty sure I’ll be back, and everything will be back to normal but,” I choked up.

“But you’re going to do something stupid and you might not come back?” she asked.

I nodded, sure that she was going to reproach me or plead with me, but she just walked over and gave me a big hug.

“You’ll do great, sis,” she said and flashed me a big adorable smile.

After that I was bored, lonely, and increasingly apprehensive. So when, in the midst of a session of mournful luting, (or rather, luting that would have been mournful in the hands of a better artist) I spotted a form flying towards me from the hills, I was almost relieved.

As the form got closer it became clear to me that it was, in fact, a dragon. As it approached the castle walls and hovered for a second (waiting for the go-ahead from the guardsmen) I saw that it was green and not overlarge. I saw the guard wave it on, and then heard it ask a question and saw the guard point right at my tower. It was good to know my soldiers were on my side, I thought sarcastically. I checked my person for my knife, checked my hair in the mirror, and the dragon was upon me.

This one made no small talk, just grabbed me by the shoulders and took off. It was uncomfortable, and I was afraid I would fall, but the beast’s grip was at least tight. Miles above the rolling hills I realized I was still holding my lute. Evidently the dragon did too, as it spoke in a similarly gravelly but oddly feminine voice.

“You know how to play that thing?”

I swallowed nervously.

“A little.”

She tightened her grip as if to say “Well, show me what you got.”

So I started playing (or trying to play) a song called “The Merry Baker and his Sea-Sick Dog.”

"Aaaaaaa baker one day was baking his bread, was baking his bread with glee,/Wheeeeeeeen a wee little man came do his door, to his a door a man so wee./ Thuuuuuuuh Baker said to the -"

“Oh, stop for the love of all things holy!” the beast said after I’d butchered it for about five minutes, “It’s a good thing you don’t need to support yourself.”

We were silent for a while after that. I didn't think I'd been that bad. It seemed a very long flight. I hoped Jarrod would be able to make it in time. Then I remembered the plan, how I was to make a bid to the dragon. I wondered what ransom I would have to claim was there to beat my own price.

“So, how much are you getting for me?” I asked timidly.

“You’ll have to speak up, Sweetcheeks, the wind eats your voice.”

“What’s my price?” I said louder.

“Good question,” she replied, “How much ya got?”

“I don’t know!” I really had no idea how much our kingdom had in its treasury.

The dragon scoffed.

“We’re landing,” she snorted. And we were. We came down into her cave surprisingly fast, so much that I was afraid she’d smack me into the ground and I’d be over right then and there. However, despite the speed of the descent, the landing was surprisingly gentle.

I surveyed my surroundings. I was in a somewhat deep cave. There was a small alcove in the front – a shelf with some food and things, a rock to sit on, even a hay-stuffed cot. I assumed this was for me. Toward the back, a large pile of gold contoured to the dragon’s body shape. Nothing around that looked like a weapon.

The dragon placed herself between me and the mouth of the cave and turned around.

“Alright, your majesty, lets set out the ground rules. As long as you don’t make any trouble, don’t try to escape, and most important, don’t ever try to play that lute again, I won’t make you damaged goods for your Prince Charming or your daddy. You pull any crap though, and all bets are off. Kapeesh?”

“You never really answered my question,” I said softly.

“You know, you are more courageous than nearly any of your predecessors! Where did you get the idea that you could ask questions? The rule here is if you’re 20 ft long, covered in impenetrable scales and able to breath fire, you’re allowed to ask questions. Are you?”

“No,” I said meekly.

“No, Ma’am!” the beast corrected.

I rolled my eyes.

“O.K., have it your own damn way,” she said, “I hope your knight comes soon. Now I’m going to go get some dinner. If I come back and you’re gone, then you’re really stupid because trust me I will catch you long before you reach civilization. If you feel you need to eat, there’s stuff on that shelf behind you. But don’t go poking around my side of the cave.”

She was gone. I looked through the shelf. There was a selection of dried meat, some dried fruit, a pitcher of sketchy water and a largely unwashed cup. I wasn’t hungry.

The plan was not really taking off. I couldn’t trick her into coming along if I didn’t know how much gold to claim was hidden away, and even if I did, she seemed thoroughly unlikely to play ball with me. I felt like I’d established a little power by being so much less scared then apparently the others had been, though I suppose it was because compared to my plan the normal way didn’t seem that scary.

Even so, I didn’t think I’d be able to kill this dragon. And I hadn’t expected her to be so humanly. It was one thing to kill a beast, but a thinking creature? I didn’t know what to do. Don't get me wrong, there was no love lost between us, but killing her suddenly seemed a lot less black and white.

Night fell. The dragon returned, walked toward the back of the cave without looking at me and went to sleep. I took out my knife and spun it between my fingers. I looked at the “money shot” Art had told me about – a tiny gap in her scales on the back of her neck. It was right where it should be. Could it be this easy? Could I just do it now and get it over with?

I decided against it. I couldn’t imagine it would work, and I didn’t want to give away any of my cards yet. It occurred to me that any act of defiance I made would put my captor on edge and make my bid less likely to succeed. I resolved to behave as much like a model prisoner as the plan would allow, and then I tried to get some sleep. It didn’t go well.

Midway through the next morning, while I was eating some dried beef in a most unladylike manner, my captor spoke to me.

“What’s it to you how much you’re worth, anyway?” she asked.

I paused for a moment, as if deciding whether or not to tell her a big secret.

“I don’t want anybody to have to die,” I said sweetly, “And I’m not even ready to get married. So I thought, before any knights come and have to die [I started crying a little here for show], I could just give you the money, if I could afford it.”

“You have it on you?” she sniggered.

“No, it’s hidden in a cave, but I could take you there.”

She paused to consider this, looking me straight in the eye. I stared right back defiantly, and then realized I should be staring non-defiantly and stared back meekly. Finally she spoke.

“How much you got?”

“I’m not sure how much there is – it’s big piles of gold and some valuables. I’ve been saving it up since I was small just for this.”

“Saving up all your money to save some lives at the risk of the loss of a husband? Aren’t you Miss Compassion?”

I really laid into the crying now but managed to get out,

“My brother died, fighting a dragon. I just don’t want anyone else to die!”

“HA!” she said, “Got you! You don’t have a brother! The reason you’re worth so much is because you’re one of two female heirs to your throne. So what was the plan? Army waiting in the cave? Your daddy put you up to this? Oh, I’ve got it. He told you to pull this after two knights so he wouldn’t have to pay, but you have a love at home and you thought if you did it now you could marry him?”

“That’s amazing,” I said, giving up, “You’re right on.”

“Well, sorry, sister,” the dragon said triumphantly, “We play by my rules here. You wait for rescue, and then you wait for ransom and maybe we can get along.”

And that was the end of plan A. I had at least minimized the damage by playing along with her explanation. If Jarrod beats the first knight, I thought, we could still pull this off. I was secretly happy I wouldn’t have to lead her into a trap and blind her then impale her with spikes. Plan B could be much less gruesome at least.

The thing was, I realized Jarrod and I had never developed an “if we’re not at the cave by so and so” plan. First Jarrod would have to hear I was captured, then he’d wait several days, and then he’d come. Three knights could be through by then. Or one victorious knight could be marrying me. One way or another, it could be all over. I was certainly in no hurry to attempt plan C. There had to be a way to salvage plan A. I just had to figure it out. Unfortunately, I didn’t have unlimited time.

MDS Ch. 4 - The plan prepared

“I thought you’d never ask,” said Jarrod, “Hang on.”

He ran toward the back of a stable and dug around for a bit, and returned with a sleek but sharp looking knife.

“I’m going to teach you to use this. Keep it on you, hidden, at all times from now on.”

“…Okay,” I said, “That’s the plan? Jarrod, I think –”

“That’s the back-up plan. The plan is way cooler. Well, plans really. I came up with a few, and I guess you can pick your favorite. Plan one: we build some kind of trap in a cave somewhere. When you get captured, tell the dragon that if he lets you go you’ll take him to a cave where there’s twice what he’s asking of your parents. Since money is their whole goal in this sort of thing he’ll have to go for it. Anyway you get there, he goes in, he springs the trap, BAM! Dragon slain.” He looked at me with a dumb smile on his face. “What do you think?”

“I think it’s risky. Have you figured out how to build the trap yet?”

“Mostly…”

“What do I do if the dragon doesn’t go for it?”

“Use your knife I guess. Hey, listen to plan two.”

“I’m all ears,” I said, smiling in spite of myself.

“Okay. Plan two: I get some armor and a horse – it’s alright, I know a guy – and I ride off, presumably to rescue you. Only when I get there, I ditch the armor and sneak in real stealthy-like, and give you a sword – or a bow. Can you use a bow?”

“I sincerely doubt it.”

“Ok, well a sword then. Anyway,”

“Um, I’m not so good with a sword either, Jarrod.”

He paused for a minute, thinking.

“Okay, I’m obviously going to have to train you a bit first, but it won’t be a big deal. Anyway, then I sneak out and then challenge the dragon. I’ll wear super light armor so I can dodge a lot, and I’ll try not to engage the dragon but just get his attention, but then you see, you attack from behind and kill him.”

I was kind of speechless. I was definitely expecting Jarrod’s plans to, well, not suck.

“You know,” I said, “Never mind.”

“Maddy,” He said, pleading in his eyes, “Let me teach you to shoot. As much as we can in the next few days. And I’ll build the trap and tell you where it is. That way you can try plan one, but if it happens too soon or the dragon won’t buy it we can use plan two.”

I smiled and, to my own surprise, started to cry. “Why are you doing this for me?”

“Because you’re my friend. And this is wrong, so we have to make it right.”

So the next day we started my knife and bow training. It was tricky, because mother wold never approve, and she was starting to get very annoyed with all the time I was spending with Jarrod. So Jarrod got me some of his old clothes and I spent several days “sick in bed.” I was old enough to handpick my servants, and I managed to bribe the servants paid to look in on me so I could actually go out with Jarrod, in boys’ clothes with my hair stuffed into a sort of pointy archer’s cap and no one would recognize me. I met some of his friends and they taught me how to fight. It was an exciting time for me because everyone of Jarrod’s friends flirted with me, and he was constantly getting protective (or jealous) and warning them off.

I remember one time when his friend Arty was showing me how to shoot. He stood right behind me, with next to no space between us, and put my hands where they needed to go on the bow, then drew back with me. When I released, he stayed there, wrapping his arms around me.

“Nice shot, kid” he said, although it had barely hit the target.

“Thanks,” I said, smiling.

Jarrod appeared out nowhere and pulled the boy off of me.

“Arty, you rat! You know who this is, and that kind of thing could get you in big trouble. Anyway we’ve only got a few days.”

I guess the days I spent with all those boys proved one thing to me: I was not against courtship and marriage; I was against parent-approved courtship and marriage. And if the princes were good picks compared to Jarrod, Jarrod was a king compared to his friends. I’m ashamed to say I was flirting with them a lot for just that reason. Well, and because I liked to see Jarrod “protect” me.

Anyway, in the four days that I could realistically be sick without being overly worried about I got to be a decent bow shot. One time out of four I could hit within a one-foot box of the target. As far as the knife goes, I could beat two or three of the weaker members of Jarrod’s little gang and could occasionally best Artie, though I couldn’t touch Jarrod himself. He said he was pretty sure I had a fighting chance, and, on the last day, took me back to the stables. The hay wagon was there, filled with odd bits of lumber. Jarrod disappeared to the same shelf from whence my knife had come and appeared this time with a small but complex wooden mechanism.

“This is a scale model,” he said, “But it should give you an idea.”

The model looked like a ballista, but with a bunch of pieces of metal foil in place of one large arrowhead. The back of the arrow was connected to a series of gears and odd pistons, which led back to a plate in front of the barrel. There was aother plate in the middle of the mechanism that was similarly connected to two large spikes pointing in from either side.

“Well, it’s not exactly to scale. But what’ll happen is, the door to the cave will be real low, so the dragon’ll have to duck to enter. As he enters he’ll step on the pressure plate that activates the whole thing. As soon as he steps on it, the trap will let fly with little metal shards that’ll blind it,” Jarrod explained.

“Blind it? I thought we wanted to kill it!” I objected.

“Well, once blinded it’ll either turn around or charge forward. If it turns around, it’s tail will hit plate two, and if it charges ahead, it’s head will. Either way the spikes will impale it.”

“They’ll puncture dragonhide?”

Jarrod looked sheepish.

“I hope so. But if not, at least we’ll only have to fight a blinded dragon.”

“We?”

“Of course. I’ll come to the sight and wait at first news of your capture, so I can give you backup if you need it.”

“Ok, Jarrod, but let me do the killing blow, and you can’t tell anyone you were involved. You get that, right?” I pleaded.

“Well I don’t see why- ”

“Because if there’s any chance that my parents could sell this as you rescuing me, they will. They’d rather marry me to a commoner than not at all.”

Jarrod looked positively crushed for a moment, but then smiled.

“As you wish, your highness,” he said. “You’d better get back home now. The boys and I will leave tomorrow to set the trap. It’ll probably take us a couple of days so don’t lure the dragon there for at least three if you can.”

“No promises,” I said.

Jarrod and I walked different directions as I tried to get up the courage to do something I’d planned to do at this moment, something I wouldn’t get a chance to do later, and something I would regret doing for a long time.

“Jarrod!” I said. He turned. I ran to him, grabbed the sides of his face, and kissed him awkwardly. The adverb I’d like to use is more like passionately, but in my royal protected existence I’d never been kissed, much less initiated a kiss and this one was awkward. Luckily, when Jarrod caught on he quickly righted it. He was obviously no amateur.

“What was that for?” he asked afterward, surprisingly cool.

“For good luck, and as a thank you,” I said. “Don’t read too much into it.”

I longed to tell my friends about the exchange but did not want to risk telling them the rest and couldn’t make the story work without 90% of it, so I painfully kept my mouth shut.

When I returned home I found my mother waiting in my room with Hell itself in her eyes.

“Sit down,” she seethed. I complied.

“Madison. I’d like you to tell me where you’ve been the last couple of days, while you’ve been bribing your servants, or rather you former servants, to lie to me.”

Oddly enough, what I felt was guilt at the servants’ dismissal. Then, shortly thereafter, panic. I was glad I’d decided to change into my dress before I left. I grappled for an excuse that would make sense, but still calm my mother.

“I was with a boy,” I said truthfully. “A very rich boy,” I lied.

“He came to my room four days ago, dressed in fine silks, with a silken black mask. He was so handsome, and he said that if I’d go away with him for just a few days he might marry me, and I knew it would make you so happy, so I just went for it. I shouldn’t have, but he was so sweet. He wined and dined me so expensively for the next four days, but he was so much of a gentleman he didn’t touch me, except to kiss me once lightly before departing out my window, and saying he would call again.” I added a dreamy sigh for effect.

My mother looked at me, sighed, and gave me a big hug.

“Don’t ever worry me like that again,” she said between tears, “But thank god you’ve found yourself a rich man.”

“And nice,” I said wryly.

“And nice,” she said, concluding her hug.

“Now you still have to be punished. I’m grounding you for a week. You can’t leave this room.”

I tried one last bid.

“If I don’t leave the room, a dragon can’t come for me,” I sighed.

“Good point,” my mother replied embarrassedly, “I’m grounding you in the east tower instead. You can come out for meals and official functions. Use the time to practice your knitting and your lute. The window is to remain open!”

Not exactly the response I’d hoped for, but I resolved to use the time to practice, like she said. Only instead of lute and knitting, I’d practice the bow and knifing. It wasn’t too far off.

Mortimer at Mindor ( I )

Mortimer smiled as he saw Narrin arrive over the horizon. She was a nearly flawless steed, but she had a tendency to become anxious when they were apart. His friend, the stabler whom he trusted, knew to let her go when she got a certain way - an Mortimer knew to pay in advance.
"Well, there she is," said Mortimer, "I suppose I'll be going. You can handle things here?"
"I absolutely can, sir," said Milly.
"Alright." He turned towards the balcony.
"One thing, sir," she said.
He turned around.
"Yes?"
"There's a new royal order that all Her Majesty's soldiers and guards must carry one of these when abroad." She handed him a scroll of parchment. "Don't open it unless you need it."
Mortimer read the side of the scroll. It said: Scroll of Summon Lawyer III.
"I have to take a lawyer scroll?" he asked, "What's the deal? One time use?"
"Not exactly, sir, but I wouldn't use it too much."
"Well, I'm sure I won't need it at all. What prompted this, anyway?"
"Well, Sir Teleos finally slew the Dreaded Llamabeast he's been questing after all these years -"
"Good for him!"
"And it's family sued for Wrongful Death."
"Oh," said Mortimer, shuddering, "Well hopefully it won't come to that. I'm out."
He gave a quick salute, then lept over the edge of the balcony onto his waiting steed. He could feel beneath him how refreshed Narrin was. He knew the feeling. Spending the night in his own bed had been wonderful, but he was ready to go. A short flight later he arrived at the Mindor Shrine.
The shrine itself was a collection of huge, reddish stones jutting out from the ground in the middle of a desert field. In the center was a circle of perfectly cut shrubs, with a gap in the front for entrance and exit, and in the center of that was an ancient marble altar. The inscription beneath it read:
Ye who seek to enter Hell, and venture back to earth,
Give thy blood to come and dwell, but lose the gift of thy birth.
Alright, he thought, Here goes nothing.
He took out the knife. He took out the jelly. He slid the knife's blade across the jelly. He put it to his hand. He took a deep breath. He sliced. Quickly, across his palm. The wound hurt like being sliced in the palm with a knife, but there was also a harsh sting from the jelly he hadn't expected.
"YOWWWWWWWWzerderblermuffin!" he cursed as he allowed a little blood to drip from the wound. The sting wasn't going away. Had Melvin tested this stuff in open wounds? Probably not, Mortimer concluded. At that point his thoughts were interrupted by a thick billow of red smoke emerging from the shrine, where his blood had fallen. As he watched the smoke rise, Mortimer wrapped his handkerchief aroud his hand. If any extra blood fell on the ground he could be in trouble.
The smoke was becoming denser and smaller, forming into the shape of a man. A man with horns. Wait no, a woman with horns. And a paisley dress. A rather rotund woman at that.
"Hello dear," she said, "Have you called upon the unnatural forces of this place to open up a portal to the land of the cursed dead?"
"I have," replied a slightly taken aback Mortimer.
"Name?"
"Tim Strong," he tried to say, but the words came out " "
"You're in a zone of truth, dear," the demonic receptionist said, "You can't lie here. Name?"
"Mortimer Lima Bean."
"You understand that by dripping the blood you've entered into a contract with Satan, pledging your soul to him at the time of your death?"
"Yes."
"Alright," she said, magically producing some papers, "Sign here, and initial here, here, and here."
"What is this?" asked Mortimer suspiciously.
"New Security measure, honey. Nothing to worry about. We like to do a written contract in addition to the blood to make sure nothing's funny."
A written contract? Mortimer had never heard of that practice. And Mortimer heard everything. Plus if he didn't get through soon, the jig would be up - the blood would dissolve and he'd be exposed. He wished there was an easier way to get the information he needed. He looked down at the contract. It was in so much legalese he couldn't make heads or tails of it. He did the only thing he could think to do. He got out the scroll.
***
Will Mortimer make it into hell? Will he make it out again? Will the trip prove at all useful? Find out when Mortimer Lima Bean returns!

Mortimer and Milly

Milly Carrot was having a disaster of a time in her boss's absence. Her weapon of choice, the five-lemured soupshooter, was currently trained on five of the seven soldiers who were somehow walking across the moat. Unfortunately, the five lemurs that had to jump onto the targets were incapable of walking on water, as the soldiers should also have been.
She put down the soupshooter. Time enough for that later. She wondered once more where the beasts that were supposed to inhabit the moat had gone off to. She had certainly fed them enough, and the food always disappeared. Oh well. She would take out as many as she could with an old-fashioned crossbow. She raised the bow, trained it on the first soldier and fired. A direct hit! Right in the chest. But it hadn't stopped him, hadn't even slowed him down. The bolt had bounced harmlessly off of his armor. Some armor!
They were much closer now. Once they crossed the moat, only the wall would stand between them and the castle. She put away the crossbow and readied her bug-gun. One of Melvin's inventions, the gun launched an egg sack which would cover an enemy with flesh-eating insects within seconds. She readied it and fired. She hit the same soldier. This time there was an effect. After a few seconds the sack burst open and his body was covered with insects. But something was wrong. Effortlessly the man sank into the water beneath him. He re-emerged a few seconds later, insect free.
They were on the land now, all of them. 'The wall will surely stop them!' she thought feebly. But of course it didn't. They turned upward and began walking up the castle wall at the same slow but relentless pace. This was ridiculous. She realized she might have to call in the army. That would be a headache. But wait, the soupshooter would work now. She readied it again and whistled. The lemurs were on their targets in a flash. She'd make short work of them with the soup-shooter. 3.. 2.. 1.. SOUP'S ON! she thought as she let her rip. The five men in front were splattered with hot soup. Nothing, though there armor looked worse for wear.
They were right on top of her. She'd have to call in the army. She turned toward the army bell, but just before she rang it she heard a familiar sound.
SPLAT!
She turned around to see the leader falling from the top of the wall, into the moat. Sploosh!
SPLAT! SPLAT! SPLAT! SPLAT! SPLAT! SPLAT!
...
SPLOOOOOOSH!
Seven shots, seven perfect hits with the marmalady. It could only be one person.
"If you could lower the drawbridge I'd be grateful," Mortimer called out.
Fifteen minutes later the two were sitting inside the castle armory. Milly had hardly had time for a friendly greeting when her boss started in.
"First of all, where were the beasts? Have you been feeding them?" he asked.
"Yes, of course!"
"How much?"
"As much as you instructed. More, actually, just to be safe."
"MORE?" Mortimer exploded, "Well there's the problem. They can hardly be expected to be hungry for blood when they've already gorged on slop."
"It was a tiny fraction more!" she protested, "And you said if they didn't get enough they'd eat each other!"
"It's a delicate balance!" said Mortimer, "That's why I usually do it myself. Second of all, why were you using soup on the Brotherhood of the Walk?"
"The what?"
"Honestly, Milly, do you think or do you just pick your favorite gun and shoot?" Mortimer asked angrily, "You can identify the brotherhood of the walk by the frying pan on their armor or by the fact that they CAN WALK ON WATER AND UP WALLS!"
"The symbols were on the back of their armor! And I've never encountered them before."
"Well for future reference, only jam and marmalade can deter them."
"And insects!" Milly added.
"True. I'd forgotten about the bug-gun. Very good. Look, Milly, I don't mean to be so hard on you, but I need to know I can count on you."
"You can sir, I promise," she was on the verge of tears, but managed to look proud and tall.
"Alright then. I came for some special weapons. Anything anti-demon."
"Ok, we'll start looking."
"Oh, and one more thing," said Mortimer, pulling out a business card, "If you need a dragon killed, throw this girl some work. I owe her one."
"Yes, sir. Very good sir," said Milly, already renewing her efforts, "Will do."

TNT: Ch. 61

"Whoa" said Sam, "That is quite a story. Sounds like you've had a hard life."
"Well, not really. I lived like a princess for most of my life. It's only lately things have been tough," Gina replied.
"Yeah, since you got caught ip in the crazy brigade. Do you really believe there's all this hulabaloo about a toaster?"
"Well, a month ago would you have believed in all this nonsense about some springs?"
Sam smiled. "Good point."
"Still, I have to admit it's nice to meet someone who's so sensible about things. Eric is great, and he's really come through for me. But it scares me how into this toaster thing he is. I mean, no one should care that much about a household appliance, should they?"
Sam thought for a minute as he chewed his pancake.
"What did you say he did for a living? Something boring, right?" he asked.
"He told me once and I think I fell asleep," Gina laughed.
"Well, that must be it, then," said Sam, "See, he's compensating for a life in which he feels like he's accomplished nothing by making this toaster thing into something epic. I can't blame the guy."
"Maybe," said Gina thoughtfully. "But again, you two aren't so different. What are you compensating for, with this whole spring thing?"
"Me?" Sam said defensively, "I'm not compensating at all. I told you, these springs are something special. You'd understand if you'd seen them. I just don't want the government wasting them somehow."
"You think you know best what to do with them?"
"Well, maybe. It just seems right. Finders, keepers. I wish the law were so simple." He gazed off, lost.
"So you really don't know what you're going to do with the springs?" Gina said, back in reality.
"Do we have to talk about this?" asked Sam, "Let's get dessert."

"Master Lin is out," said the receptionist, "But he said to connect you to his cell if you called."
"I have his cell," said Eric impatiently.
"He has two. I'll connect you."
"The hour of seven has passed, Toaster Seeker," said the voice over the phone a few seconds later, "I thank you."
"No problem, Master Lin," said Eric, as he walked to the Ringo Harrison, "I think someone's hired the government to push this thing, someone trying to stop us. Do you know who that could be?"
Master Lin was silent for a brief while.
"There is a force that would see the prophecy unfulfilled. A dark force of marketing. I have long suspected their existence but only recently confirmed it. But do not let them trouble you, they will not succeed."
"Master Lin, I've found a man who might help us, but I need to tell him everything, straight. I know there's something big going on here and I don't know how much I know, but if there's anything you can tell me that will persuade him that we're the good guys, that would help."
"Tell him to look inside himself to find the peace he seeks."
"That's it?" asked Eric annoyedly.
"On second thought," said the voice in stereo- on the phone and beside him, walking up to the car, "I'll tell him myself."
"Master Lin? You're here? But how, and why?"
"The prophecies aren't all about you Eric," the old man said, hanging up his phone "I have a part to play as well. So where did you tell this man to meet you?"
"In the woods tomorrow."
"Good. Have you a hotel?"
"We do. It's just me and Gina."
Master Lin nodded knowingly.
"Then surely there will be a bed for me. It is prophesied."
"It is not," argued Eric, getting into the driver's seat.
"You're right," admitted Master Lin, "Before we head to the hotel room, our destiny requires a trip to the hardware store."
Eric rolled his eyes and complied, hoping to find one on the way.

A Design Update

I objected to being shanghaied into the new blogger, but if I'm here I've decided to make it work for me. The new template tools have finally given me the tools I needed to make this blog what I always wanted it to be: Namely labels. To your left you will see a list titled "Stories." From here you can navigate to the story of your choice, see the list of stand-alone stories I've posted, or see all the Non-story posts I've made (Not that you'd want to). There is also a "Silly" Label, which I've applied to anything in any story that's particularly ridiculous. So if you've been waiting to read the back-issues of a story because it was inconvenient to navigate them, you now have no excuse. Get reading!

MDS Ch. 3 - The plan hatched

In the hopes of fighting fear with knowledge and making the best of bad situations, it occurred to me to try to learn, from the princes and knights who seemed to be flooding my life, as much about this system as I could.

I must say, the more I considered the system, and the more I learned of it, the more foolish it seemed. For instance, if the prize for slaying a dragon was the princess’s hand in marriage, it was a prize that could go to one man and one man only. So under the system, it made sense only for a single man to attack a dragon. This was insane. Dragons are in nearly every way physically superior to men. In normal circumstances it would be logical to take them in groups of four or five. Men were needlessly dying for this system, not to mention the dragons.

The dragons are an interesting case, too, because their options are so limited. Unfortunately they need lots of food to live. If they take livestock, kingdoms get serious about hunting them down and their survival is unlikely. Hunting’s an option, but as a lifestyle it makes every day a struggle. The dragons have adapted to a lazier lifestyle, and see this as a reasonable system. They don’t hesitate to kill knights, because they know they’re there to kill them, and besides the knights who lose, who’s really getting hurt? And anyway, the animosity between humans and dragons, sparked by the seeming conspiracy of the monarchies to keep the politics secret from their people, makes it next to impossible for a dragon to get an honest job to pay for food. For the dragons, the choice is a lazy life of crime or a life of noble struggle.

It wasn’t unheard of, I found out, for one party or the other to actually give up and have their life spared, once they realized they were bested. Of course, there was the matter of the armor. Dragonhide armor, a not-so-charming young prince once informed me, was ‘one of the most amazing quasi-magical compounds known to man.’ Besides being virtually flameproof and insanely tough, dragonhide had one exceedingly bizarre quality that, among other things, protected it from theft. Only the one who slew the dragon from which it was made could wear it. On anyone else, it would turn brittle like shed snakeskin.

Dragonhide was a status symbol amongst knights, so they would sometimes try to kill a surrendered dragon for a piece of their hide. It just went to show you it wasn’t all about princesses.

“And it’s really a good thing,” I was telling Jarrod shortly after I found out, “Because I was starting to feel really guilty. Like people were dying for me and I was so ungrateful all I could think of was me. It’s all just really screwed up.”

"It really is," he replied.

We were quiet for a moment.

"Well, maybe I could rescue you."

I laughed. "Jarrod, have you ever seen a dragon?"

"Hey, I'm a good man in a fight."

"I'm flattered, but there's no way. Anyway, what makes you think I'm so hot on marrying you?"

Jarrod blushed.

"Maddy, I didn't mean-. I mean you didn't think I was saying-. I just, if it was me we wouldn't have to get married."

"Yes we would. My parents would see to it. That's the whole point. It's the system. I'm essentially promised to whomever can kill whichever giant lizard captures me. The only way I could get out is if... Well, maybe if I killed the dragon."

I laughed at the absurdity of the idea, but Jarrod seemed to take it seriously.

"Maddy, that's brilliant. Why not?" he asked.

"You're crazy," I said, "I could never -"

"I bet you could. One, you’ve got the element of surprise. The dragon would never expect an attack from within. Plus, shit, you've got immunity. A dragon can't hurt you without bringing down the wrath of a whole kingdom - without risk of tearing down the whole system. With enough planning, Maddy, you could do this. Free yourself from the whole thing."

"That's crazy, Jarrod. Maybe I'll just talk to my parents. Tell them how I feel."

"Fine," he replied, "You go talk to them and see where that gets you. I'm going to make a plan."

I left laughing, but also intrigued. Mainly I was just thinking dreamily about how dedicated Jarrod was to me, to come up with this whole silly plan.

The talk with my parents, as you’ve probably guessed, was like talking to a wall.

“But why don’t you want to get married?” my mother asked frantically.

“I’m not saying I don’t want to get married, I’m saying I don’t want to get married this way,” I tried to explain.

“Well what way do you want to do it, then? Have a bloody contest like the Eefratapi?” He paused. “Actually that wouldn’t be the worst idea. Bring a lot of money into the economy. Everybody loves a big tournament.”

“Don’t be stupid, Mylton,” my mother told him. She turned to me.

“This system worked for me. It worked for my mother. It’s worked for our family for generations. It works for the knights, and it even works for the dragons. I know it seems scary and frustrating to you, Maddy, but just try to think of it as the next chapter of your life. You’re going to marry a handsome young man and have a fine life.”

And that was the end of that. My parents were set in their ways, my suitors were many and varied and ridiculous, and my time was running out.

By and by as my stress level increased, I started to take Jarrod’s idea seriously. He, of course, had never directly mentioned it since that first time, but I knew, I knew he was working on it. He wanted to have it ready when I finally relented. I wanted to talk it out with someone else. My friends wouldn’t hear of it I was sure, and my parents were out of the question. That left Ariadne, the little brat.

“Madz, are you serious!? That’s crazy!”

“That’s exactly what I said when he suggested it. But honestly, he made some good points. It could really work.”

Ariadne thought a minute, picking up and studying my dolls as she thought.

“Well, what if he is right? What happens next?”

“Well, after I slay the dragon I win me. And that means I get to be my own person, and marry anybody I want.” I actually hadn’t thought about it, but when Ria called me on it I felt obligated to make something up in a hurry. Now that I had though, I liked my explanation. Whomever slays the dragon gets the girl, even if it is the girl. Makes perfect sense, I thought. Ria, apparently, thought differently.

“Do you really think Mom and Dad will see it that way?” she asked, raising an eyebrow and crossing her arms.

“Well, what choice will they have?”

She sighed and rolled her eyes. She was certainly turning into a teenager early.

“They could get angry, Madz. They might do something really bad.”

I smiled. “Why should they get angry,” I asked, “They never said I couldn’t slay a dragon.”

Ariadne did not think this was as funny as I’d hoped.

“Be careful, big sis,” she said, and walked out.

Obnoxious and pretentious as she was, she was almost certainly right. Even if I pulled this off there was no guarantee it would work out the way I wanted it to. Nonetheless, I was leaning more and more towards it as an option, and the scare I needed to push me into it came the next night.

Horizon was having a little get-together at her kingdom. It was really an excuse to get to know Prince Ryan a little better, but she invited the three of us (Bri, Jenny, and I) to allay suspicion. She also invited Prince Steven, for which I currently hated her. Anyway, much to Horizon’s chagrin, the two princes were chatting politics at the castle while us girls played some croquet on the lawn.

“How do you think it’s going?” Rizzy asked.

“He’s totally into you,” I said, rightly enough.

“But you knew that,” said Bri, “It’s your parents that are the problem.”

“I can worry bout that later,” she said, “After all, I don’t have a big scaly ticking time bomb to worry ‘bout.”

At just that moment, as if summoned by her words, a huge red form streaked toward us. We all knew what it was. I screamed. Jenny ducked. Horizon voiced an expletive.

Bri ran at the dragon, screaming, “Take me, take me!”

And it did. Well eventually. First it stopped and surveyed the scene. Then it asked, in a deep throaty voice, “Princess Briana of Sesiquill?”

She nodded fearfully. It nodded back, then produced a tiny card from between two scales and gave it to me, of all people.

“See that this gets to her parents,” it said, then picked up Bri and took off. She looked positively ecstatic.

The rest of us were a bit shaken. The party was broken up immediately, the card was sent to Sesiquill with the fastest messenger in the kingdom, and we all went home to our respective parents.

I was horrified by the sheer size of it. Dragons were the sorts of creatures you could hear about your whole life, but never be prepared to see, up close and personal. The sheen of the scales, the deep gravelly voice, the unhumanity of it. On the one hand, Jarrod’s plan seemed more impossible than ever. On the other hand, it seemed essential. After three or four days in bed recovering from the shock of it, (time that would have been mandated by my parents even if I hadn’t needed it) I went to see Jarrod.

“So tell me about the plan.”