Happily Ever Awkward (The H.E.A. Files, #1)(51)

Before he left, Jack flipped a coin in a perfect parabolic arc across the bar to land right in the barkeep’s hand. “Thanks for the advice,” he said with his insufferably roguish grin, and then he was gone.

The barkeep blinked at the patrons of the tavern.

“Has anyone else soiled themselves, or is it just me?” he asked.

All the hardened visitors in the tavern raised their hands. Worrt tended to have that effect on humans.





35



KITTEN CANNONS


Thunder rolled across the night sky as a full moon beamed its frosty light down upon the island of Lilypine.

Clad in rusty armor, King Hofnar paced the beach in front of his ragtag army of peasants. Unfortunately, to call this group an “army” was rather like calling a kitten a cannon, and regardless of what name King Hofnar chose to call them, they would be incapable of inflicting any more damage than a barrage of projectile hairballs.

Flimsy boards of Lilypine wood had been knotted together and draped over the peasants’ chests as a kind of armor. Unfortunately, to call these accessories “armor” was rather like calling a cream puff a castle, and regardless of what name King Hofnar chose to call them, they would not stop an arrow from puncturing the peasants’ cream-filled centers.

The peasants, who all made their livings from the island’s lumber industry, carried axes as their weapons of choice. Unfortunately, since the average Lilypine tree could be chopped down with a butter knife, to call these axes “weapons” was rather like calling Lilypine wood actual lumber, and regardless of what name King Hofnar chose to call them, their dull edges would only ever pose a threat to Lilypine trees.

Still, those were the names by which King Hofnar liked to call them.

One member of his “army” stood upon a Lilypine stump and scanned the horizon with a spyglass. Apparently he saw something, for he started pointing and hopping up and down as he cried, “There! There! And there! And there!”

King Hofnar clanked beside him, flipped up his helmet’s visor, and grabbed the glass. It did not take him long to see what had set the peasant to percolating.

A fleet of warships crashed through the waves toward the island of Lilypine. Hundreds of warriors crowded their decks. Those warriors could properly be called an army, and what they wore could properly be called armor, and what they brandished could properly be called weapons. And the two sneering faces standing in the bow of the flagship could properly be called King Sterling and Prince Savage, although King Hofnar had other names for the two of them.

He lowered the spyglass. “’Tis him.”

He turned to the shivering peasants. “I be not one for speeches, so I wilt keep this brief. We be hopelessly outnumbered, but there be glory in hopeless causes! And I wilt not lie — war doth hurt. It hurteth a lot. But there be glory in pain! And I promise — we wilt know much glory this day!” He raised his war hammer above his head. “So, who be with me!”

The peasants glanced at each other then fled, their “armor” rattling like wooden wind chimes.

King Hofnar lowered his war hammer. “Fine. More glory for me then.”





36



DAMSELS UNDER DURESS


High above the Shadowkeep, thunder murmured from a cloudless sky, which didn’t strike anyone as odd. Considering everyone had a lot of other things on their minds at the moment, such an oversight can be forgiven. Of course, it was just such an oversight that might come back to bite one upon the buttock.

The evening air was crisp and cool as Demog escorted Princess Luscious up the stairs to the sacrifice platform. The milky white disk of the full moon hovered directly above the altar, as if Seeboth had carefully centered it there.

Seeboth himself awaited beside the altar, nervously coiling yards and yards of heavy chains into orderly piles. He wanted everything to look perfect.

Princess Luscious didn’t care how anything looked. All she cared about was the full moon. She knew what it meant, which was why she had kicked and fought against Demog the entire way from her cell.

Demog didn’t seem to mind. He carried her as effortlessly as if she were a banner flapping in the breeze, pinned her against the altar, and began to manacle her wrists with the chains.

Seeboth cleared his throat. “Demog, sacrificing one’s lover is… a personal matter.”

“Oh, of course, my lord.”

The Terror backed away and allowed the dark wizard to take over. Seeboth quickly and efficiently shackled both of Princess Luscious’ wrists and ankles. Although each of the chains was fused to the altar, they were more for show than anything else.

Princess Luscious glared at Seeboth. “When my Prince Charming arrives, you will regret this day.”

“You place too much faith in fairytale endings,” Seeboth said. “Your prince is dead.”

Princess Luscious blinked at him several times in shock as if he had just smacked her in the face with a small trout. “You… you’re lying…”

“No,” interrupted Demog. “I killed him myself. His fear tasted sweet.”

“This can’t be…” She wilted under the weight of both her fear and her chains.

Seeboth shot a pointed look at Demog, and the Terror got the hint. “Right, I’ll just be going then. I have something personal to attend to myself.”