Chapter 22 - The View from Chamber Alpha

Remmaline couldn’t hear much as she walked slowly through the dimly-lit hallways, following the silent figure of Fred. Mitch was beside her, a sullen expression on his long face. She thought she could hear a bustle of activity in the distance, and she figured those were the sounds of 10,000 men preparing for battle. But the sounds seemed far away. And as they slowly plodded down the grim corridors of Dor-ko’s castle, all signs of life seemed to become , more and more distant. The only sound was a strange jingling from Fred’s pocket. She was thankful for the odd sound, which helped make the oppresive quietude more bearable.

At length they came to a spiral staircase. Fred’s voice pierced the darkness. “Uh, we’ve got a few steps to climb now. Try and be careful, because there isn’t any railing, and it’s a long way up. If you fall, you’ll land on some rocks that will probably split your body into a million pieces. And even though I work for Dor-ko, I really wouldn’t want that. So like I said, be careful.”

Remma appreciated the warning and started up the stairs. This was just another miserable obstacle to overcome on a journey that had already had many grim moments. She wasn’t terribly afraid of heights anyway. However, as she tried to scoot up the stairs, she felt something tug at her cloak. She nearly slipped and fell as she turned around and declared, “Hey! Knock it off!”

When she regained her footing, she saw Mitch behind her. His eyes were closed, and tears seemed to be rolling down his cheeks. In a hoarse whisper he muttered, “I’m terrified of heights. Please let me hold on to you.”

Remma couldn’t help but feel sorry for Mitch. He seemed to be shaken by the meeting with Slumbutter. Of course, she didn’t feel too sorry for him, since he was the reason they were in this mess to begin with. But Remmaline had a big heart, and there was even room in it for a trembling kidnapper. So she replied, “All right, but don’t pull me down! All right?” She saw Mitch nod, and they continued. She knew very well that there was nothing she could do if Mitch pulled her down, but she tried to put up a strong front.

Up and up they went. The staircase seemed interminable. Remma could hear Mitch behind her, breathing heavily. She wasn’t too winded. She’d spent enough time racing the boys that her lungs were pretty strong. But Mitch--well, his activity was pretty much limited to walking around telling other people what to do. Physical activity wasn’t really his thing. After a couple of minutes of climbing, Remma heard Mitch’s voice behind her plead, “Could we just stop and rest, please?”

Fred replied as he continued to move. “No, sir, I think we’d better keep moving. You see, if we stop, your legs will cramp up. The air in here is so bad that you won’t be able to catch your breath anyway. So you’ll just end up spending the night on the steps. As you fall asleep, you will undoubtedly lose your balance and tumble over the edge. Then...well, then you won’t wake up again. So I would suggest that we keep moving if you want to stand any chance of getting off this stairway alive.” Mitch didn’t object, and the group continued the ascent.

Stairs have a way of turning minutes into hours. Remma’s legs and lungs were burning after what must have been five minutes of constant climbing. But finally they reached a landing and turned off to the right, heading down another hallway with high stone arches. A few torches were positioned on the walls, but they were so dim that Remma couldn’t even see her feet. After going another 20 paces or so, Fred stopped. To the right was a large door that Fred pushed open. The hinges creaked as they entered a new, sparsely furnished room. “Welcome to Chamber Alpha,” said Fred.

The room was filled with light, courtesy of a large window at one end of the room. Remma rushed over to it. She didn’t run because she wanted to see the view; she just went because she needed light. She closed her eyes and soaked in the light as a pilgrim in the desert would gulp down water from an oasis. She found the light strangely comforting.

Mitch, however, didn’t move. He just went over to a bench and sat down. “I can’t believe this!” he declared indignantly. “Is this the thanks I get for delivering the king’s daughter?”

“Actually, no,” replied Fred. “This is the thanks you get.” Then he grabbed some leg-irons that were attached to the wall near the bench and fastened Mitch’s right leg to them.

“What is going on?” Mitch bellowed. “Slumbutter promised that he would elevate me to one of the highest positions in the kingdom!”

Fred replied quietly. “You see, Slumbutter always promises great things, but he never really delivers on his promises. Well, I take that back...he does deliver. But not in a way that is satisfying. He always leaves you feeling empty.”

Fred walk toward the window, then stopped and stared. After a brief pause, he continued. “If you could look out this window, you’d see that you now occupy the highest room in the kingdom. You can see everything from here. But it doesn’t matter, because you are a prisoner. Don’t you see? He fulfilled his promise to put you in the highest position. But it’s not what you expected. You surrendered everything, and you gave him everything you had. He has taken it...and returned nothing.”

Fred walked back toward the bench where Mitch sat, speechless. Fred pulled a bag out of his pocket. “Here is a bag of gold coins. I know that Slumbutter promised you great riches if you would but serve him. Well, he has once again kept his word. There is more gold in this bag than I have ever owned in my entire life. But what does it profit you?”

Fred walked back toward the door. He turned and spoke once again. “Look, I know the feeling. I used to just be a simple farmer in these lands before Slumbutter and Dor-ko arrived. Then one day I came home from the fields, and one of Dor-ko’s minions was sitting in my small little house. My family was gone. The slimy, wretched little wisp of a man said to me, ‘Look, Fred...you’ve got two choices. You can stay here and never see you family again. Or you can come serve His Majesty Lord Slumbutter. If you want to serve, follow me back to the castle. I’m leaving now.’ Then the pathetic little figure walked out of my house and got on his horse.

“I had no choice. I quickly mounted my own horse and followed him without a word. At one point, I drew close to him on horseback and prepared to beat him to a pulp. But as I drew my fist back, he said in his calm little evil voice, ‘If you harm me in the slightest, the guards have orders to inflict the same pain on your family. I’d suggest you keep your anger in check.’

“So I’ve kept my anger in check ever since. That was almost four years ago. And I’ve still not seen my wife and my children.

“I wish I could have told you this before you did this foolish thing, Mitch. But I fear it is too late.”

Remma had been sitting by the window this entire time, listening in rapt silence. As she stared at Fred, the guard slowly walked toward her. He put his arms around her and gave her a gentle hug. Then he said, “Remmaline, I’m awfully sorry about this. You see, I’ve got a little girl that’s hidden away somewhere in this awful place, and she looks a lot like you...well, at least she used to. I don’t really know what she looks like now. Her name...her name...” Fred choked as he tried to speak. “Her name is Calinda. So I’m not going to lock you up, like I did Mitch. You didn’t do anything to deserve this. I...I hope you will forgive me...”

Remma looked up at Fred, and she saw him staring right back at her. Tears were springing forth from his small, dark eyes and were bubbling over his pudgy cheeks. Without another word, he slowly turned and left the room. Remma then heard the sounds of a key turning and a door locking. Instinctively, she ran over to the door and tried to open it. As she expected, it wouldn’t budge.

Remmaline was a prisoner.

All at once, the brave facade that she’d been putting up came crashing down. She once again felt an overwhelming sense of loneliness and separation from her father. She once again felt a wave of hopelessness wash over her. But she wasn’t only thinking about herself. She was now thinking of poor Fred, who was just living his own simple life when Slumbutter came in and ruined it. That poor man--who would have thought that such a nice, humble man could be working in the midst of such evil?

Then Remma starting thinking of Fred’s daughter Calinda, who was probably crying in some remote corner of this dreadful castle. She, like Remma, was probably wondering if she’d ever see her father again. Only for her, it was worse. Remma knew her father would at least try to find her; poor Calinda didn’t even know if her father was alive. Remma didn’t even know her, but she figured they’d probably be good friends if they ever met.

Then Remma turned and looked at Mitch. She wanted to hate him for what he’d done. They were both locked up in a putrid, despicable fortress of evil, and it was all his fault. She wanted nothing more than to walk up to him and kick him in the shins. But then, as she pondered how she might conduct such a sneak attack on her captor, her big heart grew some more. She now realized that she just couldn’t hate this pitiable man. He had been deceived by Slumbutter’s lies, and now all that he had was lost. All he could do was stare at his useless bag of money that still lay on the floor. Remmaline realized something that her father had taught her years ago--she must never delight in the misfortune of others. It is better to see a bad soul become good than to see a bad soul be judged. Judgment can be satisfying, and certainly Mitch deserved every miserable moment that he’d experienced. But it was no cause for joy or celebration.

As Remmaline felt the weight of her own sorrow, and as she felt the burdens of Fred, of Calinda, and of even Mitch, her tears began to flow like a springtime river. She paced around the room, trying in vain to flee from the despair that surrounded her. But she was powerless to do anything.

And that brings us back to the point where we saw Remma earlier, before we began this extensive review of the events that led her to Dor-ko’s castle.

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As Remma continued to pace around the room, she glanced out the window and paused. For the first time, she actually saw some movement off in the distance. It seemed to be two riders on horseback, and they were moving rapidly. She stopped her pacing and stared intently. She didn’t know why she was so intrigued by these two horses, but she just couldn’t yank her eyes away. She felt like a camper, unable to turn her eyes from a crackling fire.

As they drew closer, she could see that one of the figures was enormously fat. Her heart went out to the poor horse that was forced to carry him. She didn’t know how he was able to move so fast, but she figured the horse probably was in a hurry to get him off his back. Remma was also struck by the smallness of the man’s head. She closed one eye, extended her arm, and lined up the rider in her sights. “His head is smaller than the width of my fingernail!” she exclaimed to herself. She grabbed an imaginary needle from her cloak and pretended to pop his head.

Then she got a better glimpse of the second horse and rider. This man looked like a real warrior--strong and muscular. His face looked stern, but not unpleasant. Then she noticed that there was a rider behind him. It wasn’t big enough to be a man. Oddly enough, the rider had a hood on his head. He must be a prisoner! And there was something strangely familiar about this boy. He wasn’t exactly trying to get free, but he just couldn’t sit still. He shifted and moved and twisted and turned and did everything he could to agitate the poor horse.

Then Remmaline realized something. There was only one boy she knew of that could be so active while actually doing nothing. That boy must be Andres!

Normally, a sister would feel a sense of despair at the sight of a sibling being taken to jail. But Remmaline felt a strange sense of encouragement. Her brother was here! And if she knew her brother at all, she knew that he wouldn’t be a prisoner for long. He hated being alone, and he knew how to make things miserable for his captors. A smile slowly returned to Remma’s face. She didn’t know how it would work out, but she knew that things would eventually take a turn for the better.

Her father would make sure of it.

Chapter 21 - A Plot Revealed

Most young girls would have trembled in fear if they were chained to a bench in the throne-room of an evil king. But Remma managed to keep a sound mind through it all. Actually, she was kind of glad for the chance to sit down and rest for a minute. After her seemingly endless ride in Mitch’s wagon, careening through the mountains at breakneck speed, she viewed this little episode in the presence of Slumbutter as a chance to catch her breath. She was becoming a brave little girl, as we will see.

In front of her, in the middle of the throne-room, Slumbutter sat down and turned his attention to a young man that stood facing him. The light was poor, and Remma couldn’t get a good look at the young man. But what her eyes couldn’t see, her ears helped make up for with their keen sense of perception. She listened as Slumbutter spoke with a tone of disdain.

“Dor-ko,” he said, “who is this chump that wishes to speak to me?”

“His name is Philip,” replied the gruff voice of Dor-ko. “He is the son of Samek, chief of the village Cliffton. If you recall, your majesty, Cliffton lies on Freedom Pass. It is all that stands between us and an invasion of Aberdeen from the south. I believe he has some good news to share with us.”

“How do you know this man?” queried Slumbutter.

“I have some spies that have been communicating with him, your majesty,” Dor-ko answered. “Four years ago, when we boldly departed from Aberdeen and conquered the western wastelands, his father Samek spurned our men by refusing to give us food. So we took his pathetic wife captive, along with his daughter. After extensive interaction with our contacts, Philip has seen the error of his ways and wishes to be a part of our mission. I would suggest that you hear him out.”

“Thank you for your suggestion,” said Slumbutter. “I will listen, and it had better be good.” Slumbutter then turned to Philip and said, “My time is precious, so don’t waste it. Speak.”

Remma could sense a nervous excitement in Philip’s voice as she heard him speak for the first time. He spoke in a somewhat high pitch, the way people do when they are trying to not offend someone. Clearly, he was afraid. He began by saying, “O Lord Slumbutter, the great and mighty ruler of the lands beyond the mountains, the brave and strong contender to the throne of Aberdeen, the one who inspires fear in the hearts of friends and foes alike, may you live forever! It is with the utmost of gratitude that I come before you today with news that should cheer your maleficent heart! I wish to report, O great master, that...”

Slumbutter interrupted, “Look, Philip, I know that I am great and that you are worthless. I know that it is a great privilege for your unworthy carcass to be in my presence right now. Your flattery will not spare you if I deem you to be a nuisance rather than a help. Please get to the point.”

“Of course, Lord Slumbutter,” replied Philip in a more subdued tone. “Your lordness, I have come to report that, because of my brave actions, the great armies of this fair land stand ready to invade and conquer Aberdeen and overthrow the wicked King Maximilian! Why just this morning, I...hey! Ouch!”

Philip’s speech had been interrupted by the sound of an object flying through the air and striking him in the face. As Remma peered through the faint light, she could tell that it had been a tomato launched by the hand of Slumbutter. The voice of Slumbutter then roared and echoed throughout the room as he declared, “Great fool! That name is never to be spoken here, do you understand! Now please get to the point, and spend no more time praising yourself, or else I will have Dor-ko take his knife and remove your flattering mouth from your hideous face!”

Remma tried to imagine how that would work. How can a mouth be removed? If you cut it out, wouldn’t it just leave a bigger mouth? It seemed like a silly threat. But Philip clearly did not take the threat lightly, and he stammered as he continued.

“Lord Slumbutter, I beg your indulgence for my foolish ways. I will be brief. First of all, I have captured Gregorex the servant of Samek. Gregorex was the guardian of the southern forest, and he has been removed from his post. In fact, he has been in your prison for many days, though I’ve not yet had the opportunity to tell you, O Master of All. Second, I have captured Gregorex’ horse Spartacus. This horse is the only creature alive that knows the path through the Great Swamp. With Spartacus leading the way, we can lead your glorious armies through this formidable swamp en route to the enemy’s throne. Third, O Great One, I have directed your work force through the southern woods to the gates of Cliffton itself. Your indomitable forces now have completed a road through the woods--the supposedly impenetrable southern forest--that leads to the doorstep of Aberdeen itself. O Lord Slumbutter,” said Philip, his voice rising in a great crescendo, “if you but send your armies under my leadership through this road, we shall quickly dispatch of Cliffton and be on our way to the gates of the enemy!”

Philip’s voice echoed in the chamber with a note of nervous triumph. It was followed by a few moments of silence. As Remma strained her eyes, she thought she saw Slumbutter scratch his head and stroke his chin. At length, he turned to Dor-ko and asked, “Is this so? Are we truly poised to launch an attack on the enemy of Aberdeen?”

“Yes, Lord Slumbutter,” Dor-ko replied. “If you but give the word, we can demolish the outpost of Cliffton, navigate the Great Swamp, and be at the gates of Aberdeen within a matter of days. It is the moment we’ve been plotting for since our arrival in these lands. The men are sick of waiting; they are ready for a fight. And if my spies are correct, the fat forces of Aberdeen are completely unprepared for an assault on their homeland. I believe that you could be sitting atop the throne of Aberdeen within a week.”

Slumbutter paused and meditated on this message for awhile. He then stood up and paced around, again rubbing his head. Remma wished she had a tomato, so that she could play target practice and propel a tomato at his weaselly head. Dor-ko’s stare remained unmoved as he glared at Philip. Philip’s stare followed Slumbutter’s wandering form around the chamber. Finally Slumbutter sat back on his throne and spoke, saying, “All right, Dor-ko. You have done well. I want you to be prepared to depart from here tomorrow morning with 10,000 men, armed for battle. I want you to take my servant Pipes as your second in command. He is strong, and unlike many of my pathetic minions, he is willing to work. And the men will listen to him, if for no other reason than the fact that he is so strong, he could physically remove their heads from their shoulders if they disobey.”

“That is a wise selection, Lord Slumbutter,” Dor-ko replied hoarsely. “Pipes is not here at the moment. I dispatched him last week to assist with the grand kidnapping. However, I believe that he is due back later today. I will inform him of the mission upon his arrival.”

“Very well,” said Slumbutter. “I don’t think we have anything to fear from Pipes. His wife works in our royal kitchen as a slave, and his son is a resident of my glorious dungeon. He knows that any act of betrayal will be met with swift retribution upon his family. He will do as he is told. So go and prepare the men. We depart at first light tomorrow.”

“Your wish is my command, Lord Slumbutter,” barked Dor-ko.

As Dor-ko moved toward the door, his stride was interrupted by the shrill voice of Philip. “But what about me, O Great One?” he cried. “I was the one who laid the groundwork for this glorious invasion! I was the one who made this grand attack possible! I should be the one to lead this assault!”

Slumbutter replied in a cool, sadistic-sounding monotone. “Actually, you should be the one to keep your overactive mouth shut. You have turned on your own father. Am I to believe that you won’t turn on me as well? You have performed your service, and we thank you. Now shut up and be grateful that you have had the grand opportunity to spend some time in my presence.”

“But Lord Slumbutter, I insist that I must be a part of this attack!” Philip insisted.

Slumbutter beckoned to Dor-ko, who was halfway out the door. “Before you leave, Dor-ko, I have one more request for you. It seems that our excitable young man has a point. Please escort him to Chamber Delta on your way out. Give him the opportunity to...freshen up a bit as he prepares for battle. Do you understand?”

“Yes, my lord,” Dor-ko replied. He then glanced over his shoulder and said simply, “Follow me.” Philip replied without a word.

All this time, Remma had been viewing the proceedings with fascination. She realized that she had been the victim of an elaborate plot. It appeared that both she and Andres had been captured, and it was all meant to distract the King. Of course, her father would search high and low to find them. But once he left the castle, he would be unable to defend it against the upcoming attack. Fear crept into her heart as she saw this seemingly imminent triumph of evil. Why hadn’t her father just destroyed them when he had the chance? Why had he let them escape after his conquest four years ago?

As she mulled over these questions, the silence was broken by a voice beside her. It was Mitch. Like Philip, he spoke nervously. The words spilled out and his pitch rose. “O Lord Slumbutter, I must insist that you honor your word! Your spies told me that if I turned over the King’s daughter to you, that you would elevate me to the highest position in the kingdom! I have fulfilled your every request, O Great Master of the Western Wastelands! I have delivered the girl to you, and you can be assured that the king is distraught and filled with despair. Because of my bold and courageous actions, the gates of Aberdeen will be undefended and free for the taking, as the King gives chase to his beloved daughter. I beg of you, give me the position that you promised!”

Slumbutter slowly stood from his throne and walked over toward Mitch and Remma. He stopped a few paces away and stared silently at Mitch. Mitch seemed uncomfortable, fidgeting under the weight of the evil lord’s stare. Slumbutter then said, “Well...it seems you are right. I did make that promise, and you know me--I am true to my word!” Then he turned and motioned to the guard. “Fred, would you kindly escort these two to Chamber Alpha? It seems that Mitch is due for his...reward.” Without another word, Slumbutter walked out of the chamber. On his way out, Fred bowed low and said, “May you live forever.” But when he raised his rotund frame back up, he smashed his head on the wall. Fred was not the most graceful man in the world.

Rubbing his head, Fred then walked over to the corner of the room where Mitch and Remma were sitting. He unbound their chains and helped them to their feet. Remma thought he seemed to be awfully kind and gentle for a bad guy. He beckoned for them to follow. “Stay close,” he said. “I should chain you to my wrist, but I think you’ve been through enough today.” Remma and Mitch obeyed. Their footsteps echoed in the grim, dimly-lit hallway as they quietly headed to their next destination.

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.

Chapter 19 - A Servant in Rebellion

Remmaline was full of fear as her coach barreled downhill, heading deeper and deeper into Dor-ko’s country. The road was bumpy, and the road made several high-speed hairpin turns through the mountains. At times, she could glance out her window and see hundreds of feet down over the edge of the road. And she didn’t trust the driver at all. In fact, the only one she could trust was the horse. It was Darius, and he was one of the king’s best horses in the stable. Remma was sure that Mitch had chosen Darius because he was fast, strong, and safe.

After what seemed like an eternity, Remma finally felt Darius slow down and come to a halt. She stood up and peered outside. She saw Mitch grab the king’s flag and tear it down off the coach. Remma was mortified. How could he treat the flag that way? Mitch then spit on it, opened the door to the coach, and tossed it inside. “Here you go, Remma,” mumbled Mitch. It seemed to Remma that his voice was darker than she had ever heard before. “This wretched thing is no good to me.”

Remma quickly picked up the flag and dusted it off as best she could. She loved the flag, as much for how it looked as for what it represented. The flag was deep purple, with a golden lion emblazoned in the middle of it. A golden border surrounded the flag. Her brothers would have been outraged to see the flag treated this way. They no doubt would have vaulted out of the wagon and commenced wrestling with Mitch on the spot. This thought made Remma feel even worse, as she stared outside feeling totally helpless.

As she stared, she saw Mitch grab a different flag. Although she couldn’t see very clearly, it looked like the flag was totally black. It appeared to have two letters on it--and “S” and a “D”. Underneath the letters, there appeared to be a picture of a bear standing up, with his foot lying on the throat of a lamb. Remma grimaced when she saw it. She couldn’t help herself as she yelled at the top of her lungs, “That’s the dumbest flag I’ve ever seen!” Mitch didn’t answer. Instead, he commanded Darius to begin his trot, and the coach lurched forward.

It was horribly cold and windy in the mountains. Remmaline couldn’t stay warm. Her teeth began to chatter uncontrollably. Hunger pains gnawed at her stomach. As this interminable ride continued, Remma began to sink into utter misery and despair. How could she possibly stay warm? As the hours wore on, the chill became even deeper. The western side of the mountains seemed to be perpetually cloudy and cold. The sun never appeared, and the incessant wind pierced through the wagon mercilessly. Finally, Remma set her eyes on the flag. She reached over and touched it. It had a smooth, velvety feel to it. She asked herself, “Would Daddy be upset with me if I used his flag like a blanket?” She knew her brothers might get mad, but she figured her daddy would be more understanding. So she carefully unfolded the banner and wrapped it around her. She instantly felt relief from the cold. She then lay down and tried to sleep again.

As she laid down, she felt a slight pain in her side. Puzzled, she reached down into the pocket of the cloak that Mitch had thrown on her the night before. She felt a hard object in her pocket and pulled it out. It looked like a hardened brownie. When she smelled it, she realized that it had come from Skittlechip’s kitchen. Only Skittlechip could make a brownie that smelled good, even a few days or weeks after he’d made it! Then Remmaline realized what must have happened. Mitch must have stolen one of Butch’s cloaks when he dressed her up during the kidnapping. And Butch the stable boy was always grabbing treats from Skittlechip’s kitchen. This was a great relief to Remma, for not only was she hungry, but she also had an insatiable sweet tooth. She warmed the cookie in her hands for a few moments and then took her first bite. In her opinion, it was the best brownie she’d ever tasted. After devouring the brownie, Remma closed her eyes and slept for a couple of hours.

When Remma awoke, it was still daylight. The journey continued. Mitch stopped briefly on two occasions to let everyone (including the horse) get a drink, but Remma barely was able to stretch her cramped legs before Mitch pushed her back onto the wagon and started moving again. Remma was afraid that Mitch might fall asleep and totally get them lost. But the journey went on, and on, and on. It wasn’t until just before nightfall that Mitch settled down for an extended stop. After crossing a stream, Mitch pulled off the road and followed a trail that went into the woods. Once he was out of sight of the road, he unhitched the wagon, told Darius to go get a drink, and then opened the wagon door. “Get out, girl,” he mumbled to Remmaline.

Remma’s legs were stiff, and her back was sore. Once again, hunger pains gnawed at her stomach. She stumbled over to a tree and plopped to the ground, leaning her back against the tree-trunk. She turned to Mitch and asked, “Do you have anything to eat? I think I’m going to die of hunger.”

Mitch came over to her. But instead of bringing food, he brought a rope. He tied one end around her foot, and he tied the other end around the tree. He then went back to the wagon and pulled out a bag. He grabbed some strips of dried deermeat and started to eat. All Remma could do was watch. Normally, Remma had no appetite for meat whatsoever. But after going a whole day with eating nothing but a brownie, she was ready to sink her teeth into anything that was remotely edible. When she could stand it no longer, she piped up and asked, “Mitch, why are you doing this?” She figured that if she couldn’t eat, she could at least keep him from eating by getting him to talk.

“You wouldn’t understand,” replied Mitch.

“What do you mean?” asked Remma.

“Look, kid, you’ve got everything. You’re a princess, the daughter of the king. You have no idea what it’s like to be a nobody, to be a common servant. I’m sick of it, kid. It’s time for a change--for me, and for you.”

“But Mitch, what do you mean that you are a ‘nobody’?” asked Remma. “You serve the king himself! Some people in the kingdom will go a whole lifetime without ever speaking personally to the king, and you get to see him every day!”

“I told you that you wouldn’t understand!” bellowed Mitch, who become suddenly very agitated. He stood up and began to pace around. “All I do is follow orders. The king tells me to do something, and I have to do it. I’m nothing but a slave, condemned to spend my whole life doing menial labor! I’m sick of it!”

“How can you say that your labor is menial?” queried Remma. “I mean, you serve the greatest king in all the land! Really, is there anything more important that doing what the king asks?”

“Shut up!” yelled Mitch, replying to Remma’s calm question with fire in his eyes. “Before I came here, I was a knight in Slumbutter’s Army. I commanded hundreds of soldiers, and they did what I told them. Now I command no one. I’m done with it, kid! I’m going back to Slumbutter.”

“But Mitch, tell me,” asked Remma, “did the king ever mistreat you? Were you not comfortable? Did he not respect you? What did he do to make you so...so bitter?”

Mitch paused before replying. “I’ll tell you the king’s problem,” he said at last. “He thinks he is so great. He thinks that nobody has anything better to do than to just do what he says. I’m sick of his...his arrogance. I mean, why should he be king? What makes him better than any of the rest of us?”

Remma was pleased that Mitch was starting to ask her questions. Although she hated being kidnapped, she prefer having a conversation to simply sitting in solitary confinement in a wagon. She replied to Mitch’s question by posing another question. “Mitch, let me ask you something. Did the king ever keep you against your will? Has he ever threatened you if you didn’t do what he asked?”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” snapped Mitch.

Remma felt a little indignation swell up inside her. “Actually, I think I do!” she replied. “Look, I don’t live a perfect life. Sometimes I get upset with my daddy, even though I know he loves me. And he loves you too, by the way, even though you may not realize it. He told me once how much he thinks of you! But anyways, here’s what I’m trying to say. If I get upset, I have nowhere to go. He’s my father, and he’ll always be my father. But you--you came to him by choice! He didn’t make you come, and he’s not making you stay. In fact, if you’d just told him that you were headed back to your old Master, he’d have probably let you just go without another word. You are not a slave at all, and you know it!”

Mitch just stared at Remma. She couldn’t tell whether he was listening and thinking about what she’d said, or whether he was just plain angry.

Then, unable to stand the silence, Remma spoke up again. “In fact, I think you know that the king has treated you well. The only problem is, he hasn’t made you to be king. And that’s the problem, isn’t it? You want to be king! The problem isn’t the king’s arrogance--it is yours!”

Remma had a way of putting her finger on the real problem. LIke a master swordsman penetrates through an adversary’s defences and pierces his heart , so did Remma’s words strike at Mitch’s heart. But instead of responding with understanding, he stood up and walked over to Remma. He glared at her and raised his arm as if to strike her. But before he moved, brave little Remma spoke once more. “Go ahead and hit me, Mitch,” she said, with tears streaming down her face. “You’ve already taken away everything that is important to me. You’ve taken away my family and my home. You’ve made me hungry and thirsty and cold. And...and you’ve taken away my hair. So go ahead and hit me, Mitch. You can’t make me feel any worse than I do already.”

Mitch continued to stand over Remma with his hand raised. He was motionless for what seemed like several minutes. Then finally he relented. Without saying a word, he reached down and untied the rope around Remma’s leg. He then lumbered over to his bag, grabbed a few pieces of dried deermeat, and tossed them over to Remma. “Don’t go anywhere,” he said in a subdued voice. “There are wolves out there, and they’ll have you for dinner if you try to run away.”

Then Mitch grabbed a blanket and laid down on the ground. Without looking at Remma, he said, “Slumbutter has promised to put me in one of the highest positions in his kingdom if I deliver you to him. It’s too late to back out now. Tomorrow we’ll reach his castle. I’ll get my reward, and you--well, you’ll get taken care of. So stop talking and get some sleep.”

Within moments, Mitch was alseep. Remma walked back to the wagon and grabbed the banner. Wrapping herself up in its surprising warmth, she laid down. As she looked up at the trees above her, she thought she saw the faint outline of an owl staring down at her. Comforted by the sight, Remma closed her eyes. Before descending into slumber, she mumbled the words, “It’s never too late.”