Happily Ever Awkward (The H.E.A. Files, #1)(19)
“Congratulations, Prince Paul! Our congratulations indeed. Your sacrifice… er, heroism… is… it’s ever so appreciated. More than you know. And to help you on your Quest, the Lottery awards you…”
A serving wench wheeled a cart beside them. Reaching beneath the red cloth that covered it, the bard fished around a bit, and then an embarrassed expression crossed his face.
“…awards you the, uh… the Singing Sword.”
He drew a tarnished longsword from beneath the cloth. Its sculpted grip featured a mouth upon the pommel, and reliefs of musical instruments adorned the hand guard.
“Sorry, my lord,” said the bard. “It’s all we have left.”
When Paul gripped it, the Singing Sword’s mouth came to life, cleared its throat, and started warming up — badly, I might point out — with a series of fractured DO-RE-MIs.
“Um… you’re sure you don’t have anything else?” Paul asked. “Maybe just a stick or something?”
The Singing Sword stopped singing and started speaking. “Hey pal!” it barked. “Give me a break! Even the Sirens gotta warm up!”
The courier, who by now had managed to catch his breath and down a flagon of beer, grabbed Paul by the arm and dragged him toward the door. “Quickly, my lord! The Quest beckons! To the crime scene!”
13
NETHERHELL 1,000,001
The Netherhells come in as many shapes, sizes, and orientations as people do. Just because one may not fit within your standard definition of eternal pain and suffering does not mean it is any less unpleasant. Only by embracing the full diversity of the Netherhells and all they have to offer can one find true hellishness.
The ground was in the sky.
The sky was underground.
People clung precariously to the inverted landscape above their heads, clutching stones or tree branches or anything else that might keep them from plunging into the stratospheric blue abyss below their dangling feet. Every now and then, someone would lose their grip and plummet into the sky.
Worrt the Demon winked out of thin air and stood upside down, his feet firmly planted upon the ground-sky. Unaffected by the strange inversion of landscape, he looked around and puzzled over an accordion-folded dimension map he had picked up somewhere along the way.
He was desperately trying to find his way back to Earth, but, being a typical Demon, he refused to admit he was lost and ask for directions.
Frustrated, he took one final look around to get his bearings, at which point he noticed a man staring at him. The man hung from a tree branch beside the Demon.
“What are you looking at?” Worrt demanded.
The man shrugged.
Worrt knocked him from the branch, watched him scream down into the clouds, and then disappeared to resume his search once again.
14
THE SCENE OF THE CRIME
In a hallway high atop the Imperial Castle of Theandrea, a mason chiseled away at the stone arms that still clutched the guard to the wall. Paul stared wide-eyed as the courier escorted him past.
“Uh… did Seeboth do that?” Paul asked.
“Please tell me that’s a rhetorical question,” the courier said.
“Oh, right. Of course. I mean… uh… what I meant was, just how bad is this Seeboth?” Paul said.
The courier laughed without mirth. “How bad isn’t he? The man sinks continents, controls an army of Zombies, keeps a Terror for his bodyguard—”
That stopped Paul. “A… Terror?”
The courier nodded. “Vicious creature. It feeds on fear. They say it kills its victims with their greatest fear. But even Terrors fear Seeboth.”
He led Paul into the bedchamber of Princess Luscious.
Paul’s gaze swept across the melted wood of the doors that had pooled upon the floor like molten chocolate. A flicker of light drew his attention to a trio of knights who were unsuccessfully attempting to douse fiery green letters that burned on the wall. A sound overhead prompted him to glance up, at which point he found himself staring straight up the skirts of Laura the Handmaiden, who still hovered ten feet in the air.
“Hey!” Laura snapped, clutching her dress tight around her legs. “A little chivalry, please?”
Paul blushed and dodged aside. Before he could look down, Laura caught sight of his face.
“Wait, you? What are you doing here?”
After hastily stepping several yards away, Paul finally dared to glance up at her. His face simultaneously lit with recognition and darkened with embarrassment. “I’m… I’m here to rescue Princess Luscious.”
“Oh, this is perfect,” Laura said with a roll of her eyes. She was very good at eye-rolling. Princess Luscious had given Laura many opportunities to practice her disdainful eye-rolls until they had become a finely honed instrument.
Beside her, a skinny knight who was balanced precariously on a ladder finally finished chalking her outline onto the wall.
“Can I get down now?” she asked, tossing another of her patented eye-rolls his way.
“Of course, m’lady. I’m all finished.” Waving his hand, he intoned the words, “Fiat Oblivytum!”
A flash of green light popped around Laura and appeared to cut whatever arcane strings had been holding her. Skirts ballooning around her, she plunged downward and slammed into the floor.