Chapter 20 - Delivered to Dor-ko

Mitch and Remmaline finally arrived at Dor-ko’s castle late the following day. The stench grew increasing noxious as they drew closer to the castle. The ride was quiet, long, and grim. Mitch was visibly disturbed during the entire journey. Remma heard him mutter to himself several times, “Where is everyone? Why aren’t these miserable people cheering me?” As he continued to grouse, Remma couldn’t stand it any more. With the castle looming in sight, Remma bellowed out, “Mitch, don’t you realize that you’re answering your own question? The people aren’t cheering you on because they are miserable! For people to cheer, they have to be cheerful! And I can’t imagine that anyone serving tyrants like Dor-ko and Slumbutter would ever be cheerful!”

Mitch grew silent.

But Remma, who loved to keep talking once she got started, wasn’t content to just leave Mitch alone. She continued on relentlessly. “Besides, what do you expect the people to do? Cheer you on for kidnapping a helpless little girl? Do you expect them to sing the praises of Courageous Mitch the Great, the Grabber of Girls and Purloin-er of Princesses? Don’t you have to do great things for people to tell you how great you are? What do you expect?”

Mitch stopped the wagon. He dismounted and opened the door. He held a thick staff in his hand. Staring at Remma, he said, in a low but penetrating voice, “You’d better shut up, kid, or I’ll beat with this stick right now. There is no one to hear your cries now, Remma. No one.”

But Remma called his bluff. “Look, Mitch, you didn’t kidnap me to kill me. You only get your dumb little reward if you bring me safe and sound into the castle. So go ahead--beat me up and deliver my bruised and battered body to your pathetic little boss. See what kind of reward he gives you for handing over a package of damaged goods.”

Mitch raised his staff, but Remma didn’t back down. She knew that she was right. Mitch couldn’t do anything at this point. So instead he reached into the wagon, thrust his hand over Remma’s mouth, and said, “Not another word, okay!”

As he withdrew his hand and re-mounted the wagon, he heard Remma’s voice again. “Not okay, Mitch!” she declared. “I don’t care where you take me, or what you do to me. The king will save me. And you know what, Mitch? I think you know it! You know the king, and you know he doesn’t forget anyone. He’ll save me!”

Remma sat back down, exhausted. She wished she was as brave in her heart as she was with her voice. As the wagon pulled up to the castle gate and came to a halt, she truly wondered how she would ever be saved. After all, her father didn’t even know where she was. Remma fought within herself to hold on to some semblance of hope.

Mitch ordered Remma out of the wagon, and Remma quickly obeyed. Mitch grabbed her by the wrist and dragged her to the gate. The entry to the castle was guarded by two tall, stout, oafish-looking men, one on either side of the gate. The guards stood stock still with a spear in their right hand and a shield in the left. They kept their expressionless stare forward, never seeming to look at either Mitch or Remma. They neither moved nor spoke. Finally Mitch spoke up. “Don’t you know who I am?” he asked.

“Yes indeed,” said the guard on the right side of the gate. “You are the ugliest man I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

Then the second guard pitched in. “But you’ve got a mighty fine looking wife!” he declared. “She’s a bit young for you, but that’s good, ‘cause she’s probably too young to recognize just how homely you really are!” With that, both guards laughed, though they never diverted their gaze for an instant.

Mitch bristled with indignation. “Why, I am Mitch! I am the former servant of King Maximilian, and I’ve come to complete my secret mission for Slumbutter.” The guards immediately bent over double, coughing and gagging and spitting. Remma thought it looked like the guards had instantly been struck with a stomach flu that made them writhe in utter agony. Finally, one of the guards grabbed his spear and swung it toward Mitch, striking him in the head with the butt end and felling him to the ground. As Mitch grabbed his jaw, the guard said, “Don’t you ever--EVER--mention the name of that man again, do you hear me? His rule is not recognized here, and his name is not spoken. Take that as a lesson.”

The guards resumed their position, and Mitch climbed back to his feet. “You’d better let me in, or I’ll tell Slumbutter and he’ll skin you alive, you miserable wretches,” he said.

The second guard said, “Well, today is your lucky day. We’ll do as you say and let you in. But guess what? We’re also the royal executioners. If you are NOT who you say you are, we’ll get to see you again later today! Only that time, it won’t be so pleasant. Because instead of just hitting your ugly little head, we’ll be removing it. So go on in, hero. Lord Slumbutter’s throne-room is down the corridor to the left.” The guards lowered the gate, and Mitch and Remmaline entered.

Remma had all she could do to keep from vomiting as she entered the putrid castle. She gagged involuntarily a couple of times. She was glad that she hadn’t eaten anything for so long, because she was sure that she wouldn’t have kept it down. Mitch pulled her down a long, dimly-lit corridor. The entire castle was deathly quiet. Strangely, she was glad she was next to Mitch. If she’d had to walk down a hallway like this all by herself, her imagination would go wild and she’d be horribly frightened. But with Mitch beside her--well, he was a thug and a meanie, but at least she could keep her wits about her.

After about a minute of walking, they came to a large door that was guarded by an extremely fat man who almost seemed to be asleep while standing up. Mitch approached the guard and said, “I must see Slumbutter.”

The guards eyes opened. Remma thought his eyes were very small, but that was probably because their were embedded in a very pudgy face. As Remma stared at the guard, she thought that he didn’t look all that unfriendly. He wasn’t exactly smiling, but he wasn’t wearing the perpetual frown that seemed to characterize most people in Dor-ko’s country. After looking at Mitch for just a moment, he asked, “Who are you?”

“I am Mitch.”

“Well, I am Fred,” the guard replied. “It’s good to meet you.” He extended his hand toward Mitch. Mitch looked at it and cautiously shook it.

“Why are you so afraid?” said the guard. “Gee, you acted like I had a poisoned dagger stuck in my hand.” Then the guard chuckled to himself, as though he’d just made a tremendous joke. His entire body jiggled like a bowl of pudding in an earthquake.

Mitch wasn’t prepared for small talk. “This girl is the daughter of the ruler of Aberdeen,” he said. “I told Slumbutter that I would deliver her to him, and I have come to complete my mission. I insist that I be able to see him.”

“All right,” replied Fred the guard. He opened the door and peered in without entering. “Lord Slumbutter, sire, forgive the interruption and permit your humble servant to speak for just a moment,” he declared. “A man by name of Mitch is here to see you.”

“Who?” rang out a voice from inside the throne-room. Remma figured that it had to be Slumbutter himself.

“He says his name is Mitch, sire. He said something about delivering the daughter of King Maximilian.”

There was a brief moment of silence, followed by the sound of a sort of missile flying through the air. Remma then heard a splat, followed by a slight grunt from Fred. The guard turned his head. Remma could tell that he’d just been struck in the eye by a tomato. A voice then bellowed, “How many times do I have to tell you to never mention that name! Are you not the stupidest, slowest-learning servant in all of my realm?”

Fred turned his head back toward the room and said, “Uh, sorry about that, boss.”

“Apologies are a sign of weakness, you oaf,” declared the voice from inside the room. “But since you indeed are exceedingly weak, I will accept it. Now escort your guests in.” Fred turned and beckoned to Mitch and Remma, and they entered the throne-room.

As Remma gazed around, she was thoroughly unimpressed. The room was large but dark--not like her father’s throne-room, which was well-lit and had windows on two sides. The throne was not majestic at all. It was made of stone and was not ornate at all, except for a carved snake on either armrest. A rickety wooden table had been pulled in front of the throne, and three people were sitting at it. Sitting on the throne was a rather small, pathetic looking man. Remma figured it had to be Slumbutter. He was skinny with wiry dark hair that looked like it hadn’t been combed in a month. As he looked up when Mitch and Remma entered, Remma detected a faint smile. But it wasn’t the kind of smile that said, “I’m glad to see you.” Rather, it was a sinister smile that hid more than it revealed.

Next to Slumbutter was a tall man with a crooked jaw and a perpetual scowl. His nose was long and his skin was rough; Remma thought he looked like a baked potato that’s been left in the oven an hour too long. He seemed to growl in disgust at the sight of his new guests. Speaking up, he said in disgust, “Fred you dimwit, why are they walking freely in the presence of Lord Slumbutter? Put them in leg-irons over in the corner.”

Now this didn’t bother Remma too much, who was used to being a prisoner after a couple of days with Mitch. But Mitch was indignant as Fred grabbed his wrist and led him over to the corner of the room. Unable to control himself, he cried out, “O Lord Slumbutter, please--you, O Great One, were the one who sent me on this mission! I have delivered for you! I insist that you let me go! What kind of reward is this?”

Slumbutter replied, “What kind of fool do you think I am? You turned on me four years ago, and now you have turned on your new master. Why should I think that you won’t turn on me again? Now keep your mouth shut, or else I will remove it--and the rest of your head--from your feeble body.”

Fred clapped Mitch’s and Remma’s legs in irons in the corner of the musty throne-room. He then offered them a bench to sit on. They could do nothing but sit in silence as the three men before them talked and plotted. Remma did not like the site of what appeared to be her new home.