Prologue

Cecil finished climbing the summit and stood for a moment on the precipice at the borders of Arg. The wind blew out his face, causing his blonde hair to stream out behind him and the tails of his coat to fly out in the wind. He put one hand on his sword, the other on his pistol. He looked out onto the valley before him. Niff, his destination, was finally a few days within reach.

But Niff was not his final destination: only the beginning of something better, something far greater. No, not really a destination at all, but a beginning to a greater quest, a quest that would make him a hero.

But perhaps he already was a hero, he thought. He was the one attempting to do the daring deed, as a lone wanderer, through great obstacles. He was the one attempting the quest that none other had succeeded: the quest for the Silver Feather.

It would be a mighty quest, one that would be written about for ages. He would perhaps even be put into song, and sung throughout many countries by many people. He would be the champion of the Silver Feather, using its powers for good.

“Cecil,” someone shouted from below him. “Are you done relieving yourself yet?”

Cecil turned to see a woman climbing out of the automobile on the road below.

“Not yet, Mother, just one moment.”

Soon, Cecil was climbing back down the few feet and got into the automobile. It slowly shuddered forward, though its rusty gears didn’t have much will to keep going forward anymore. It went a few hundred feet when the engine seized up and the car slowly glided to a half. Steam rose from the engine.

“Again?” Cecil said.

“Don’t worry. We’ll be there in a jiffy,” Nora, his mother said. “You’ll see. This old thing always manages to get going again.”

She got out of the automobile and then opened the hood to the engine. More steam rose up.  Cecil slowly drifted off to sleep as she grabbed some tools from the back and started to tinker with the engine. He barely noticed an hour later when the car started lurching forward again: he was too busy happily dreaming about a crowd of people cheering for him and chanting his name.

1 – In Which There are Wet Clothes

Jake clutched the bag full of water balloons and gingerly stepped out of the house and onto the street.

Immediately, two automobiles screamed at him–Aa-oo-gah!–and three different women in the large hats clutching parcels and purses almost ran into him.

He managed to keep it together across the cobblestones to the other side of the street without too much jostling. And that was when the bike messenger hit into him.

Jake landed on his bottom. The water balloons landed on top of him and one burst, leaving a nice wet spot on the front of his breeches.

“King chooses new cabinet! It’s not pine or mahogany! Fresh off the press! Only a nickel!”

Jake looked up to see a boy that was probably younger than he was with his arms full of newspapers. The newspaper boy stumbled over Jake. “You want to buy a paper?” the boy said.

“Do I look like I have money?” Jake asked.

“Dunno. It’s only a nickel. How come you wet yourself?”

“How come you don’t leave people alone?”

“I’m just saying. The other day, my friend Pat did the exact same thing, wet himself, I mean. Course, he had a good reason for it. It had to do with a goose, a rubber band, and some soldiers. So, it started off like this . . . “

But Jake had picked his sorry, wet bottom off the ground and was quickly walking away.

2 – Pulling my leg

It should have been fairly easy to scramble up to the rooftop. Jake had done it dozens of time before. But this time, it wasn’t easy at all, since a bum had a hold on Jake’s ankle.

Should he scream for help? No one would probably care. Try to kick the bum off? That didn’t seem to be working too well. Drop the sack water balloons onto the bum’s face? That was out of the question. Pray for lightening to strike? Jake was pretty sure the Man-in-Sky wouldn’t cooperate with that.

“Mr. Strange Homeless Man,” Jake finally said. “I think you really need to find some professional help instead of going after young boys that have nothing to offer you and a severe lack of anything that resembles muscles in which to fight you off. And you smell really, really bad. So go take a bath. And let go of my ankle.”

And the bum let him go.

The rest of the journey across the rooftops was uneventful, unless you count the time that Jake slipped and his jacket caught on a nail, saving him from certain death. Or the time that a flock of birds started pecking him to death. Or the time . . . well, he didn’t die, and that was what mattered.

3 – Arg

Jake’s feet dangled above the government officials, dressed in colored tights, little shoes, delicate breeches, layers of jackets and vests and cravats and lace, topped with powdered wigs.

He hefted a water balloon in his hand.

And then loud voices erupted in the square and a group of very rough men (tattoos, ratted hair, etc.), raced into the capitol building, shouting, “Get out of our way,” and the like. They brandished swords, guns, and a club.

They were up to no good. Jake could tell, since he was usually the one who was up to no good. But they had weapons instead of water balloons, which seemed quite a bit more serious.

Jake kept clutching the water balloon and waited.

A minute later, a very frantic official came running out. His wig was askew and he almost tripped over the lace in his stockings.

“The king! Men from Arg have captured King Bidford!”

Everyone, except for Jake, decided that running and screaming was the best way to help the situation, causing a great commotion as many of them ended up running into each other. Jake sighed. Why couldn’t anyone keep their heads about them?

4 – Water Balloon

Jake kept his water balloon ready. The doors of the capitol building opened and out walked the men from Arg with their various weapons. They held a man who was dressed in the most ridiculous outfit Jake had ever seen, though ridiculous didn’t convey the full force of it. Pink, yellow, lavender, lace, silk, frills, enough that you could barely see the ruddy face of the man behind it all. On his head there was a gigantic crown perched on top of a gigantic wig.

Must be the king.

The people continued to run and scream. A woman screamed and fainted into a swoon, but the man beside her neglected to catch her and edged away from her, hoping that no one would notice.

One of the men from Arg, brandishing a knife, yelled, “People of Niff,” he said. “We will kill King Bidford. Then we shall become your rulers. See!” He made the king kneel to the ground.

And the king would have been dead. Except for a water balloon that flew down from the rooftops and hit King Bidford square in the face.

Jake hadn’t dreamed in a million years that he would actually hit the King with a water balloon. The best he hoped for was a minor official, maybe a page or something. Not that he had necessarily meant to hit the king—the water balloon had flown out of his hand almost of its own accord.

Everything went very, very quiet.

Suddenly, another balloon was flying through the air. It hit the man with the knife. Then another balloon and another, each hitting the king’s attackers. Another hit the king again, causing him to flatten on the ground. A man from Arg tripped over him.

One of the men loaded his gun and pointed it toward Jake. Jake hit him square in the eye before he had time to shoot, causing him to reel backward.

A bugle sounded, and into the courtyard paraded two lines of soldiers, holding their bayonets proudly, with swords hanging from their belts. They were in perfect time with each other.

The men from Arg quickly started running away, and the king was pulled back onto his feet by one of the soldiers.

“Find the person with the water balloons,” a man with a very large wig and a very large lace collar shouted.

Everyone looked in Jake’s direction.

5 – In Which Jake is Brought Kicking and Screaming to the King

Everyone was waiting for Jake to come down from the rooftop.

But Jake, instead, was running on the rooftops in the other direction, hoping he didn’t trip on the shingles.

“Jake! Stop!”

Dag nab it, Jake knew that voice. He stopped. He turned.

There was a solider standing at the base of the building looking up at Jake.

“Dad, how did you know it was me?”

“You walked out of the house with water balloons this morning. Who else could it be? Now get down here.”

“You can’t make me.”

“What happens every time you say that? Who is in charge here?”

Jake sighed. It was true that Porter, his dad, usually always won. And it was totally unfair. But Jake went off running again, jumping between roofs and seriously hoping he wouldn’t fall.

He thought he had lost everyone, and that he could safely climb down.

But when he neared the ground, someone grabbed his ankle.

“Gotcha,” Porter said. A band of soldiers ran into the alleyway behind Porter and pointed barrels of guns and dangerous, pointy-things at Jake.

Jake was grabbed roughly, but there was no way that we would go quietly. Jake kicked, screamed, and put up the biggest ruckus he could manage, but the soldiers were too strong and forced him to the capitol building.

This was not supposed to happen.

6 – Prince

The king’s throne room was ginormous. The ceiling about reached the sky and almost everything was covered in gold. Or at least fake gold. Jake was pretty sure a lot of it was painted that color, and not really gold at all. There was also a lot of purple stuff.

What an ugly sight.

There were dozens of people who were too important to actually do anything with their life except stand around the king’s throne room and look pathetic and frail.

A man with a huge lace collar yelled, “JAKE! Come forward!”

Everyone turned and looked at Jake. Jake scowled back.

“Come forward!” Lace Collar said again.

“You don’t have to shout.” Jake walked a few steps forward.

“Ahem,” Lace Collar said. “Closer.”

Jake took a few more steps.

A woman with a lavender fan gave him a dirty look. Jake stuck his tongue out at her.

“Even closer.”

A few steps more.

“Would you like to go to prison for insubordination?” Lace Collar asked.

“Maybe,” Jake said, but he walked forward until he stood before King Bidford.

King Bidford blinked vigorously. Did he have something in his eye?

“King Bidford,” Lace Collar said. “This is, ahem, Jake, the boy with the water balloons.”

“Jake?” King Bidford said. His voice was surprisingly large, deep, and loud. ”Hmm.”

Jake began to wonder what prison was like. He imagined a dark, dank cell. He would have to escape with a broken spoon, with a combination of climbing, digging, and pretending to be dead. All at the right moments.

“Well,” King Bidford said. “I suppose . . . for saving my life . . .  we will make him . . . a Prince of Niff.”

Crap. Jake preferred the broken spoon idea.

7 – Shock

Awkward silence.

“Could we just pretend that you didn’t say anything, King Bidford, your honor, or whatever I’m supposed to call you?” Jake finally said. “I really don’t want to be prince. At all.”

King Bidford blinked.

“It is done,” Lace Collard said. “You do not question the decision of the king. Margie!”

A very large woman in a plain gray dress and a white apron stepped out of the shadows. She had a large bun on the top of her head that pulled her hair back so tight that it gave her face a strained look.

Margie grabbed Jake by the wrist.

“No!” Jake yelled. “You can’t do this. I don’t want to be prince. I can’t be prince. Let me go!”

“Come on, sonny,” Margie said, and she pulled Jake out of the throne room, Jake kicking and screaming the best he possibly could.

“They’re making a mistake,” Jake said.

“Of course they are,” Margie said. “You’re no more fit for a prince than my left shoe. But you’re the one who saved the king’s life and all.”

“It was an accident.”

“Well, whatever it was, deary, we’re going to get you cleaned up.”

8 – In Which Jake Calls for Help, and No one Cares

Jake managed to wrest himself from Margie’s grasp and grabbed on to a pillar with both his arms and legs. “You’re not taking me anywhere,” Jake said. “I’m going home.”

Margie tugged on his ear until Jake’s eyes watered. He gripped harder.

Margie sighed and let go of his ear. She took a step back. Jake went to run away, far away, but with surprising agility, Margie managed to seize him around the waist, pick him up, and carry him over her shoulder.

Jake kicked his legs and bet his arms, but Margie plodded forward as if it didn’t bother her one bit.

“Help me!” Jake screamed. “Help me!”

But the stately men and women he passed by merely looked at him in amazement.

“You better not put up such a fuss,” Margie said. “I know that sometimes royalty are a royal pain, if you know what I mean, but there’s nothing to scream about. You’ll be taken very good care of. Heavens, I wish I were royalty.”

“But I don’t want to be prince,” Jake whimpered.

“So you’ve said. Why ever not?”

“I have a dad, you know, and he is not the king. He lets me play in the filthy alleyways and gutters. I belong there. Not here.”

“We’ll scrub that life right out of you. Don’t worry, deary, it won’t be that bad.”

Margie opened a door. Steam came out of it, and she set Jake down, closed the door, and locked it with a key that she proceeding to hide somewhere in the folds of her plain gray dress and apron.

Jake blinked. The room was covered top to bottom in white tiles, and in the middle was a row of three large, silver bathtubs.

No. This was his worst nightmare.

9 – Jake’s Worst Nightmare

“Now take off your clothes deary,” Margie said. “The first tub is nice and hot, no use letting it get cold on us.”

Jake waited for a moment, but Margie didn’t leave.

“Some privacy?” Jake asked.

“Why do you need a thing like privacy? You want someone to help you bathe, don’t you? It’s what part of being royalty is.”

“Well, someone, maybe. But not—”

“Not me? Suppose you’re right, me being a female and all.”

She unlocked the door and hollered out into the hall. “Perry, get in here.”

Jake heard a hurried rush of footsteps, and then a young man in a bright red cap appeared at the door.

“Help Prince Jake bathe,” Margie said. “I’ll be outside when your done.”

She pushed Perry into the bath, shut the door. Jake could hear a key scraping in the keyhole.

No windows in the room. No way to escape.

Perry stood by Jake nervously, took a few steps forward, and then stopped, putting his hands behind his waist. “Right,” Perry said. “This is awkward.”

“Yeah,” Jake said. “Let’s pretend that I take a bath, why don’t we? I’ll just swish my hair around in the tub a bit, and then it’ll look great, won’t it?”

“But you’re covered in grime. You really should take a bath.”

“Make me.”

Perry knocked on the door. “He’s being difficult, Margie,” Perry said.

“Tell him if he doesn’t cooperate than I will personally manhandle him into the tub.”

By the time Perry had turned around, Jake had undressed and plopped himself into the first tub.

“Just don’t touch me,” Jake said.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

Jake swished around for a while. That was clean enough, wasn’t it? He had to preserve some of his filth.

And then the door opened.

“You are good for nothing, aren’t you Perry?” Margie said. “Your hands aren’t even wet yet. Move over.”

Perry ran back into the hallway.

Margie proceeded to start scrubbing Jake behind the ears.

Jake screamed, but it was no use. He soon found himself pink instead of brown and being dried off in a plush towel. And he might have been blubbering for mercy. Just a bit.

10 – Dress

“Let’s go,” Margie said.

“But I’m naked.”

“We’re going to the royal dresser. You may bring the towel. I can drag you if you don’t go willingly.”
So Jake held on to the towel as firmly as he could. Margie grabbed hold of his ear, and they proceeded down the hallway.

The capitol building was huge. Jake passed so many people in so many different outfits his head was spinning. Everyone stared at him and whispered to each other. A few giggled as well.

Finally, Margie deposited him and his sore ear in a rather large room with a man who had spectacles on the edge of his nose and was studying the details of a certain lace.

Margie shut the door and locked it.

Jake held the towel tighter.

The man proceeded to take a pair of scissors from somewhere in his waistband and proceeding to cut the fabric into a butterfly shape. The man than rushed to the end of the room and stitched the butterfly onto a jacket that was sitting on a model. The jacket was made from forty or so different sorts of fabrics, all brightly colors, many lined with lace, in many different shapes arrayed randomly arrayed. It barely resembled a jacket at all, more like a large pile of fabric.

“Magnificent,” the royal dresser said. “It is finished.” He turned to look at Jake. “It will be perfect for you, my little prince. I had to work on it in a big hurry, so perhaps it is not my best work, but there will be more to come, I promise. With even more colors. And more patterns and figures and beautiful lace.”

The royal dresser started to rummage through the drawers and wardrobes that lined the room, pulling out random items of clothing, lace, stockings, cravats, hats, and even a wig.

The towel would be better than all of this.

The royal dresser came toward him with bright yellow underclothing that was full of decorative trim. Jake dodged the royal dresser and ran to the doorway, but it was locked solid.

The royal dresser just laughed. “But you will look fantastic, my dear prince. I will get you clothed, with or without your cooperation.”

Jake climbed a wardrobe, and was startled to find the man climbing right after him.

Jake leapt off the wardrobe, but the royal dresser reached out and grabbed Jake’s towel. In the moment of surprise and hesitation as Jake’s towel dropped to the floor, somehow, Jake found that the yellow underclothing was being forced over his head. And as he tried to wriggled out of the shirt, the royal dresser grabbed his leg, causing Jake to fall to the ground.

The shirt had rather long sleeves, and the royal dresser grabbed the end of the sleeves and fastened them tightly to the back of the shirt. Jake couldn’t move his arms anymore.

He kicked out with his feet, but the royal dresser caught his feet and then proceeded to tie Jake’s ankles together with a long stretch of fabric.

The man started puling layers of bright fabric and hats and cravats and lace and breeches and shoes over him.

Twenty minutes later, the royal dresser opened the door. Jake wanted to itch everything at once, because all the fabric and lace was scratchy. He tried not to look at the dainty shoes and gold thread and the lace and fringe that poked out. He tried to imagine himself in some happy place, not this horror.

Margie was there, waiting for him, and she smiled when she saw Jake. “Now, sonny, you look like a prince.”

An interruption . . .

. . . in which Cecil attempts Magic.

We leave Jake for a moment and see what Cecil is up to:

The landscape passed them by quickly as they hurried onto to their destination to see the King. Cecil sat back and mused on what would happen:

He would sweep into a throne room, his head held high as people looked at him with respect. He would make a dashing bow.

“How can I serve you, your majesty?” Cecil would ask.

“What can you offer me?” the king would say back. The king would be large in stature, sitting straight in his throne, dressed in regal robes, a simple crown on his head.

“I can seek the silver feather, and gain it for the kingdom of Niff.”

There would be a gasp throughout the throne room as people would wonder at his audacity, at his boldness.

“This is a great task,” the king would say. “What price do you ask for it?”

“Only that I can continue to serve you, as King’s Hero.”

“I will do better than that. I will make you a prince, to reign in my stead.”

Cecil smiled to himself.

Then the automobile lurched and stopped entirely.

“Mom!” Cecil groaned. “What is it now?”

“I’m working on it, dear,” Nora said, getting out and looking at the engine again.

Cecil sat back. He expected the automobile to start again soon. But it didn’t.

“I don’t know what’s wrong,” she said through the window.

Cecil got out. He looked at the engine. He knew nothing about engines.

He reached into his pocket and grasped the piece of parchment. “I should only use this in dire need,” Cecil said, pulling it out.

“Is this dire need?” Nora asked.

But Cecil had begun to read:

Gabaddo rabaddo quickity quack. Fix my problem just like that.

He waited for something to happen.

And waited.

“Is there anything else you’re supposed to say?” Nora asked.

“That’s all the parchment says.”

“Maybe it doesn’t work, dear.”

“Maybe we should try to start the automobile.”

Nora tried to start it. Nothing happened.

Next time Cecil met the supposed witch who sold the spell to him, he was officially going to get some sort of revenge.

11 – Banquet

Jake resolved that he was going to go out of there as soon as possible. And when he got home, he would never, ever do anything slightly adventurous again.

He sat on the banquet table surrounded by various important people dressed in various ridiculous outfits, though his was one of the worst.

Margie had brought him in by his ear. There was a wide array of silverware and servants hurrying to and fro.

“What is this fork for?” Jake asked.

“Put that bloomin’ fork down. That is for the sixth course. You go from the outside in, and just do what the person next to you is doing, and that’s it.”

Margie took a few steps back, but she didn’t leave the room.

There was a plate with food on it stuck on his table. At least, it somewhat resembled food, though Jake couldn’t tell if it was animal, vegetable, or mineral.

Jake picked up a fork. The wrong fork.

“Don’t brandish it like you’re going to stab someone,” Margie called out to him. “Don’t bend it. They are not combs. They are not seam rippers. Prince Jake!”

Everyone in the whole table was looking at him.

King Bidford blinked.

A few daintily scooped at the strange food on the places. A man chewed and swallowed.

Jake leaped up onto his chair, tearing off a large piece of lace and throwing it away. “Freedom!” he yelled, as he proceeded to undo all the rest of his clothes until he remained in his yellow underwear.

The clothes lay on the table in a messy pile.

“How about a dance?” Jake asked.

And he tiptoed down the center of the table, flying through the condiments and kicking at the first course.

A woman screamed as her cup flew onto her dress, making a large stain. Another swooned into a faint, and the man next to him failed to catch her. Another man tried to grab Jake, but he pirouetted out of the way.

And when Jake spilled wine onto Lace Collar’s collar and stomped over the King’s food, his ear was severely grabbed by Margie and he was escorted out of the hall.

End course one.

“We’ll need to get you a new jacket,” Margie said. “Before you can go back there. Preferably a straight jacket, I think.”

“Wait–I’m going back?”

“Well, a banquet in your honor can’t very well happen without you, can it, sonny?”

12 – Terror

Second course.

Jake’s arms were tied. A plateful of something orange and inedible was put before him, though of course he couldn’t eat it.

Jake look at Margie. She had sat down on a chair, keeping an evil eye on him, but her eyes were also dropping.

Wait for it . . . wait for it . . . there. Margie drifted off.

Jake dove under the table, wriggled his hands free. He was confronted with fine stockings, small, tight shoes, and frilly underskirts.

Perfect.

And before the third course was served, all the men’s shoelaces were tied together, all the stockings had holes in them, and all the underkirts were ripped.

For the third course, Jake was tied to his chair with rope. So he hopped around the table in his chair singing loud and somewhat in appropriate songs.

Fourth course, Jake was gagged, though he had stuck a knife up his sleeve, so he was able to cut through his bindings and then ran away to the tapestry on the side of the dining hall.

“I hope this is expensive,” he said, and slashed through it, revealing a secret passageway that led to the kitchens.

The fifth course Jake spent chasing servants with his knife.

And for dessert, he climbed up the curtains and proceeded to throw fruit at them.

No one ate dessert.

Margie stood below him. “You, Prince, are in trouble. The king had to be put to bed. When he found what state his stockings were in, he fainted.”

“A few men did attempt to murder him this morning. He’s probably still overexcited about that.”

“The men from Arg are less of a terror than you, Prince Jake.”

 ”There are lots more to come. Unless you send me home.”

“Just get down here.”

“Make me.”

And Jake, found out, they could make him. They sent the cat after him first, who hissed and scratched at him, and then Margie herself came up a ladder, threw Jake over her shoulder, and proceeded to deposit him in a bedroom with no windows, locking the door securely behind her.

13 – Escape, Almost

Jake tore apart the wardrobe and found a decent shirt and trousers to wear. He spent the night sleeping on a pile of frilly nightshirts.

Margie opened the door the next morning with a tray of breakfast.

“Can I leave now?” Jake asked.

“I’ve been instructed to keep you locked in your room, sonny. Though I may just be accidentally negligent on that front, if you know what I mean.”

She put the breakfast on some jackets and left the room.

And she forgot to lock the door behind her.

Easiest escape ever.

Unfortunately, Jake got quite lost in the maze of random halls and rooms throughout the capital building and couldn’t manage to find a door that led outside. It was Sunday, and most everyone was at church, so Jake couldn’t ask for directions. And he hoped he wouldn’t get struck by lightning for not attending church. It wasn’t his fault in the first place.

Jake found himself in an empty throne room. “Wahoo!” Jake said. If he remembered right, he could go out that door, take three rights and one left, and be free again.

But then the door to the throne room opened. . .

14 – Cecil arrives

Cecil

Cecil and his mother, Nora, finally arrived at the capitol building of Niff.

They parked their automobile in the courtyard. It was eerily quiet. A soldier stood by the doors.

“Where is everyone?” Cecil asked him.

The man eyed him suspiciously. “Why do you want to know?”

“I’m here to see the king.”

“Why do you want to see the king?”

“That’s my business, isn’t it?”

“Why is it only your business?”

“Why do you keep asking so many questions?”

“Why do you not answer them properly?”

Cecil started to say something, but it got stuck in between his teeth and came out as a stutter.

He turned around, walked away from the soldier, walked around the courtyard, and then came to the man again.

“I wish to see the king,” Cecil said, “for the purposes of offering my services to him.”

“What sort of services? You want to be a kitchen boy?” the man asked.

“No, no. I want to go out on great tasks to achieve great things for the king. A hero, you might say.”

“Whatever qualifies you to be a hero?”

“Do I have to have specific qualifications?”

“Why? Do you not have any?”

Cecil started stuttering again, turned around, and walked around the courtyard once more, this time tugging at the handle of his sword.

“You will let me in to see the king,” Cecil said. “I have travelled long and hard, and demand a presence in front of the honorable King Bidford. You will admit me into his presence.”

“And if I don’t, you’ll stab me with your sword?”

“I may.”

“That wouldn’t make a very good first impression with the King now, would it?”

Cecil stammered for a moment, but held his ground. “Please? Can you just let me in?”

The man shrugged. “The door’s open. I’m no guard.”

And so Cecil entered the building.

15 – Jake’s Escape is Foiled

And so it happened that Cecil and Nora walked into the throne room and Jake stood looking at them, rather aghast.

“Jake!” Nora said.

Jake ran, trying to hide behind a tapestry or get of the room or anything, but instead was scooped up by Nora in a large hug and was given a kiss on the forehead.

Jake tried to wipe off the kiss and pull away from Nora’s clutches. “Ugh!” Jake finally had to yell. “Let go of me woman.”

“Jake, aren’t you glad to see your own mother?” Nora asked.

“I haven’t seen you for five years and the only reason I remember what you like is that dad has a picture of you and forces me to look at it occasionally. Goodbye.”

And Jake wrangled himself out of her grasp and started walking out the throne room.

“Jake?” Cecil asked.

Jake glanced at Cecil and noticed a sword pistol, bayonet, knife, and other various weapons. “Cecil,” Jake said. “Have you come back to murder someone? Or are you doing your best imitation of a prickly porcupine? Or maybe you feel so insecure with yourself that you need all those weapons for a false sense of confidence?” Jake asked.

“What? No . . . uh . . . It’s good to see you too,” Cecil said.

“Goodbye,” Jake said.

And he fully intended to walk away from his mother and brother and hopefully never see them again.

Except for the doors opened, and in walked King Bidford.

16 – The King Eats a Cookie

Jake hid himself behind a tapestry.

King Bidford made his grand appearance, tripping over his clothing three times and almost losing his crown twice, but finally gracefully plopped into his throne with a thud. The rest of the court streamed in behind him.

Everyone ignored Cecil and Nora.

Lace Collar ran in a moment later. ”Your majesty,” he said, nervously twiddling his thumbs.

King Bidford held up his hand to silence him. “Get me a cookie,” he said.

Lace Collar rummaged through his pockets and brought out a cookie. King Bidford chewed it. Swallowed.

King Bidford finished his cookie.

“I respectfully would like to talk about Prince Jake,” Lace Collar said.

“I do not want to talk about the Prince.” King Bidford crossed his arms in front of his chest.

“Would you talk about getting rid of him?”

King Bidford brightened considerably. “Wonderful idea! Let’s do it immediately! Demote him! Throw him in the streets!”

“There is a problem with that.”

“There is no problem with that. I am King! My word is law!”

“Right. But not exactly. You are the executive branch, not the legislative branch, actually. So their word is law.”

“Legislative branch? Is that a part of a tree?”

“No. The committees that make the law, your majesty. You remember.”

King Bidford blinked a lot, as if fluttering his eyelids would make him think better.

“But I can still order him away, can’t I” King Bidford asked.

“The law clearly states that Jake will always be a prince.”

“So I’ll change the law.”

“You can’t because you’re not—”

“If I can’t, then who can? Make them do it!”

“The committees are quite slow, so it may take up to a year.”

“I want him out now. There is no way he is ruining another pair of my stockings.”

Their conversation was rudely interrupted by a man in a lime green suit and orange stockings who rushed into the room and shouted in a very loud and grand voice, as if he had been practicing for some time, “Cecil, who has recently been in Arg, but who is really from Niff and is true and faithful to his king, is here to seek the honorable King Bidford’s presence.”

17 – In Which Cecil Forgets His Name

Cecil, fully decked out in all his sharp metal objects and dangerous projectiles, proudly strutted in. He gave a complicated, funny-looking bow that involved a lot of arm waiving and knee-bending and a fair bit of staggering as well.

Still in a bowing position, Cecil shouted, “Your majesty, I am at your service now and forever.”

Everyone stared. Then giggles. Then laughs behind the backs of hands and a certain tapestry where Jake couldn’t help himself.

Cecil’s face turned purple-red.

“Who are you?” Lace Collar asked.

Cecil looked up. “Um . . . well I was announced. Didn’t you hear that?”

“No. I must have missed it.”

“Oh. I thought he should have done it a bit louder.”

“Are you going to tell me your name or what?’

“My name?”

“Yes. You do know your name.”

“Um. Yes, well, of course I do.”

There was silence.

“And it is . . . .?” Lace Collar tapped his foot impatiently.

“Oh. Right. You want my name. But who are you anyway? You’re not the king.”

Lace Collar rolled his eyes and sighed. King Bidford blinked with increasing ferocity.

“Your name,” Lace Collar said. “Or else you are leaving.”

“My name is, um, um . . .”

“Don’t tell me you have forgotten your own name.”

“I haven’t. Not really. It’s just I’m here with the King, and I sort of lost myself for a bit. And I . . . I . . .”

“You got a little over-excited perhaps? I hope you didn’t wet yourself at all.”

“No, no, nothing of the sort. It’s just an honor to be here. I have lots of good skills to serve the king and—”

“Skills? Like forgetting your own name?”

Everyone laughed.

The King blinked.

Cecil sighed. ”No, I know my own name.”

“Then what is it?”

“My name? The announcer told you, didn’t he?”

“Good grief!” Lace Collar shouted. “Don’t you have a brain, whatever your name is?”

“It’s—”

“I don’t care. What do you want, anyway?”

“I want to be the King’s Hero, to go after the legendary Silver Feather and by so doing earn my place as prince of Niff.”

Silence.

“We do have an opening as a kitchen boy, I believe,” Lace Collar said.

“Did I not speak quite loudly enough? I’ll say it again. I have come here before the King of Niff to offer my services as his Hero and retrieve the legendary Silver Feather and by so doing earn my place—”

A silver feather? No one had heard of a legendary silver feather.

“You want to be a hero? What credentials do you have, you who-doesn’t-know-your-own-name?”

“I do know it.”

“Then what is it?”

“It’s Dung Face,” said a voice from behind a tapestry.

Dag nab it, Jake thought. Why had his mouth opened and moved?

18 – An Idea

Lace Collar pranced over and removed the tapestry to reveal Jake.

“Seize him!” Lace Collar yelled as Jake darted out.

Promptly, three different soldiers grabbed Jake by his elbows and collar.

The King groaned. “Why is Jake here?”

“The King knows you?” Cecil asked, looking flabbergasted.

“Jake is the Prince of Niff,” Lace Collar said.

Cecil opened his mouth. And closed it. And opened it again. A gurgle came out.

“What is the Silver Feather?” Lace Collar asked Cecil

“It’s a legendary object. When you write something, using your blood as ink, whatever you write comes to pass.”

“Is it hard to find?” Lace Collar asked.

“Very. There are only faint clues.”

“And is it in Niff?’

“Probably not. I suspect my journey would take me far to the tall reaches of the mountains and the uninhabited–”

“Whatever.”  A very sly look crossed Lace Collar’s face. ”Your majesty,” he said. “I think I’ve found a solution to your problem.”

“Thank goodness. What is it?”

That’s when Jake started praying.

“Wouldn’t it be nice if Prince Jake left the country? And what’s his name wants to undertake a lengthy quest outside of the country. Jake can accompany him.”

“No,” Jake shouted. “You can’t me.”

“Yes, we can,” Lace Collar said. “King Bidford, will you make it official?”

“I hereby declare Cecil the King’s Hero, who will have the task of seeking out the Silver Feather for the throne of Niff, and declare Prince Jake his companion. May they go out on adventures and return at some much later date, if at all.” King Bidford blinked, and then he smiled brightly.

Lace Collar smiled brightly. Cecil smiled brightly.

Jake frowned.

“Great,” King Bidford said. “Let’s eat.”

19 – A Journey Reluctantly Begins

Cecil walked out of the throne room in triumph. Jake was forced kicking and screaming.

Cecil walked next to the automobile and stood on the bottom railing. “I go to claim the Silver Feather,” he said to the few people who lingered around. “I go for the country of Niff, and I will come back in victory, and you will learn to revere my name as I wield the power of the Feather.”

Jake couldn’t help laughing so hard that the men almost dropped him.

“What’s so funny?” Cecil asked me.

“You’re an idiotic boneheaded doppelgänger,” Jake said. “And there is no way you are dragging me on a ridiculous adventure after a silly object that doesn’t even exist?”

“I don’t think you know what doppelgänger means,” Cecil said.

“I don’t think you do either.” Jake wriggled as hard as he could, and then yelled, “Look! A distraction!” The three strong men looking at him all looked away in different directions, and with a final wrench, Jake freed himself from their grip.

He ran across the cobblestones of the courtyard, toward the freedom of the crowds of the city, and he would have gotten away, except for a soldier stood in his path and grabbed his arm.

“Jake,” Porter said.

“Dad,” Jake said.

“Porter?” Nora squealed.

Porter looked up. “Nora?”

Jake used the fortunate distraction to break Porter’s grasp and run as fast as he could.

But before he could run, Margie appeared with a rolling pin that hit Jake quite harshly on the noggin.

Jake crumpled to the ground.

Part II

Our story so far: Jake became Prince of Niff after accidentally saving the King’s life with water balloons. Jake hated being a prince and wreaked havoc; thus, when Cecil, his brother, came in and offered to be the King’s Hero and go after the Silver Feather (which Jake thinks is ridiculous, as there is no Silver Feather), the King ordered them away on an adventure. Also joining them are their parents, Nora and Porter. 

20 – Who’s Got a Clue?

Cecil woke up early, as he normally did. It was important for heroes to wake up early, to be alert and ready for whatever was coming. He assembled his weapons before stepping out of the tent. You could never be too careful.

A mist had spread in the night. Cecil kept his sword raised as he walked to the nearby stream. He splashed his face with the crisp water. He would travel far, perhaps encounter some dangerous obstacle.

Cecil reached into his pocket and drew out the scratchy piece of paper.

He lives in the hills of the Blue mountains:

Silent for all of his days.

Yet a secret he holds deep in his heart,

The secret of where the Feather lays.

“Man, that is a grammatical mess,” Jake said.

Cecil whirled around with his sword, which ended up close to Jake’s throat.

“It’s just me,” Jake said.

“Jake.” Cecil lowered his sword, and Jake took the opportunity to grab the clue out of Cecil’s hand.

“Give that back,” Cecil said. “It’s mine.”

“I think that has been artificially aged. Lemon juice and some smoke, maybe?”

“That . . . that is the first clue to find the Silver Feather.”

“So this is why we’re headed to the Blue Mountains? What would happen if I tore this?”

Cecil raised his sword.

“Come on. You wouldn’t use that on me. I could tear away, and all you could do is blubber.”

“Mom!” Cecil called. “Jake’s bothering me. Make him stop.”

Jake tore the clue in half.

Cecil blubbered.

21 – Escape Attempt

Breakfast was not as edible as Jake would have hoped. “So, I have a question,” Jake said through a mouthful of what may have been eggs, “Can someone just bash over the head now? I would rather that then go to the Blue Mountains in Batewood, a land full of assassins and murderers, to find a hermit who can’t even talk to us.”

“No one can assassinate me,” Cecil said. “I’m trained in the arts of–”

“Don’t care. If they shoot a poison dart into your neck, you will die. And the end of the quest for the Stupid Feather.”

“It’s not–”

But Jake spit some charred substance and walked off.

And wandered over to the automobile. How was he supposed to start it? Oh yeah, just give that whirl. . . The engine started coughing.

It didn’t have to be too difficult to drive, did it?

Porter looked at him and raised an eyebrow. Jake smiled back and climbed into the driver’s seat. He was confronted with levers and knobs. Maybe this one here, and then this one. The automobile started moving forward.

“What are you doing?” Cecil asked.

“So long, dim-witted nincompoop,” Jake said back, and the automobile lurched away.

First it hit a bush. But Jake finally managed to get it spluttering on the dusty road, back the direction he had come from. He switched gears, gaining speed. This wasn’t too hard at all, and in no time at all, he would be home. Then he could sell the automobile,  live on the street, and live a wonderfully boring life.

For about ten minutes, it was smooth sailing. And then, with the automobile still chugging along, Porter dropped from the roof, crawled in in from the passenger’s side, and sat on the seat next to Jake.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Porter asked.

And Jake promptly drove into a rather large ditch.

End of escape attempt.

22 – Stuck

The automobile smoked in the ditch. Jake and Porter crawled out of it.

“How did you get here?” Jake asked.

“I got on my motorbike, lassoed your automobile and reeled myself in. You hurt?”

“Can’t you see the blood running down my face?”

“That tiny cut?”

“It’s gushing.”

“The only thing that’s gushing is the engine,” Porter said. He turned to look at the smoking mess.

“Can we leave it broken, hop on your motorbike, and go home and leave this Despicable Journey of Death?” Jake asked.

“Always the optimist, aren’t you?” Porter asked. “Jake, I’ve got news for you. The King specifically ordered me to keep you on this journey. So you’re out here until you find the Silver Feather.”

“But the stupid feather doesn’t exist. Give me another way out.”

“If Cecil gives up, I’ll let you go home.”

“What about if Cecil dies?”

“I’ll just fix the engine now.”

An hour later, Jake climbed into the bumper seat without another word and they headed back.

If Porter wouldn’t let him escape, he would just have to make Cecil give up, and give up fast.

23: The Girl

They drove. And drove. And drove. Through villages, deserts, farmland, and forests, until they reached the middle of nowhere. The days filled with dust and jarring roads and barely edible food. Jake’s head hurt. His rear hurt. His stomach hurt. His back hurt. About all of him hurt.

Jake awoke early, when there was just a bit of light, but the sun hadn’t risen. He poured warm water over Cecil’s breeches and went out into the morning.
The forest was covered in mist and made the air look silver. Drops of dew shimmered on the grass and purple flowers, and willow branches gently swayed in a cool breeze.

Laughter rang out. Not ordinary laughter, but something that resembled the tinkling of crystal and the beating of bird’s wings. It made Jake feel warm inside, and comfortable.

The laughter melted into song. The high, clear voice seemed to come from the trees.

The hero of the journey

commences an easy task:

If you want a feather,

all you do is ask.

But the rhymes are now wrong,

Something stolen in the night

listen to my morning song

and you can figure out what’s right.

Jake saw a young girl, dancing. Except for maybe she wasn’t young, but timeless instead. Her silver-blonde hair fell down in loose braids onto a green dress that matched perfectly with the leaves. No, the dress was made with leaves. She was barefoot, her skin pale-white. Her eyes were green.

“Hullo,” the girl said, and Jake realized that she was looking at him.

“Wow,” Jake said at first, and then followed through with, “Hello,” because it seemed a little bit more appropriate.

She giggled, and Jake shivered.

“I’m Tipsy,” the girl said.

“Jake.”

“That’s a funny name.” Tipsy giggled again, and then she sang again.

One is stalwart to his purpose,

But a rebel waits, unbending.

The journey becomes impossible,

A victory slowly ending.

The sun rose, and as Jake blinked in the sunlight, Tipsy disappeared with an echo of laughter.

Jake suddenly had an idea. A secret, wonderful idea. He smiled for the first time in days.

24: A Quick History of Batewood

A few hundred years ago, a group of criminals from Niff were banished to the mountains to the northwest. They settled down, started mining, and got rather rich. As the settlement grew, they elected a king. Since then, there has been seven kings: three were assassinated and the other three were assassins. The current king is King Charles, the son of an assassin, which is a new first. Some commentators think that Batewood is becoming more civilized. But while any person from Batewood enjoys their tea time, most agree that an assassination is just around the corner.

As far as the landscape, Batewood was a fairly mountainous region with narrow roads that quickly turned into steep drop-offs. So when Jake, Cecil, Porter, and Nora entered the country a week after their journey began, Jake was sure Nora’s driving would cause a tumble off a cliff, thus avoiding any encounters with assassins or other unseemly folk.

But as usual, Jake was disappointed, and they managed to drive safely to the first town.

25: All For Fun

Jake awoke in a bad mood. The sun hadn’t risen yet. A root or a rock or something equally uncomfortable dug into his back. His feet were cold. Cecil snored loudly.

Jake glared at Cecil. Cecil was the one who wanted to go after a stupid feather. Cecil had showed up at the entirely wrong time. And hadn’t Nora left Jake in order to pursue Cecil’s education in Arg so Cecil could become a hero?

Pretty much every miserable thing in Jake’s life could somehow be attributed to Cecil.

Jake got up and crept over to Cecil. He poked Cecil once. Cecil didn’t wake up. Another poke. Still Cecil didn’t wake up.

Jake started removing all of Cecil’s weapons. Followed by most of Cecil’s clothes. And then Jake grabbed Cecil’s ankles and dragged him out of the tent.

Cecil didn’t wake up even as Jake tied a rope around Cecil’s waist and then to a tree. Jake proceeded to roll Cecil off a cliff.

And that’s what started the screaming.

Jake smiled. This was how a good mood felt like. He had forgotten.

26: It’s Not Fun Anymore

One of the few times Jake actually went to school, he brought a snake that slithered across a girl’s foot, making her scream. Cecil was making the exact same noise.

It didn’t take long for Porter to haul Cecil up.

“Where are you clothes?” Nora asked.

It took a while for Cecil to regain his breath. “I don’t know. Someone must have stolen them. And my weapons. And then threw me off a cliff for good measure. Did you see anyone?”

And then Cecil looked at Jake, who was still smiling. Jake quickly pretended to look concerned.

“You did it,” Cecil said. “Didn’t you?”

“Did what?”

“Don’t play innocent with me, you, you you . . .”

Cecil lunged at Jake.

Jake quickly analyzed the situation. Cecil was older, bigger and stronger–and had apparently been trained in hand-to-hand combat. Jake altogether at a complete disadvantage.

By the time Jake finalized his analysis, he had been knocked against the ground, picked up, spun around, pinned again, hit in the face, and was being choked.

Jake tried hard not to whimper.

“Cecil, let go of your brother,” Nora said.

Cecil did.

“You’re a pathetic idiot who strongly resembles a wet noodle,” Jake said. “And you still don’t have clothes.”

“Where are they? And my weapons?”

“You really need those weapons? Because you’re going to find some stupid feather, save the world? You’re not a hero, just a small, small ignorant boy. I hate you.”

Cecil opened his mouth. A sort of gargle came out, and then some stuttering, and then some choking.

Jake limped away and pretended he wasn’t crying.

27 – Shady Man Saloon

Jake wandered up the road, and there was town. There was a shady man eying him from the outside a saloon. Jake knew it was a saloon and that the man was shady because there was a sign that said “Shady Man Saloon.”

The man was dressed up in a pair of boots, sturdy blue pants, a brown vest, and a hat with a wide brim. He was chewing something and spit on the ground on occasion.

“What do you want?” Jake asked him.

“I’m just minding my own business,” the man said. “The question is, what are you doing here? It’s dangerous country.”

“Dangerous?”

“Three professional assassins live in this very town. Work has been slow lately. You offend someone, and someone can hire the assassins and put them on you for cheap.”

“Assassins running cheap these days? You don’t say. You aren’t advertising your business, are you?”

“Maybe I am. The name’s Larry, by the way. You can find me usually around these parts. Just be careful.”

Jake shivered and suddenly wish he hadn’t wandered off. He quickly moved to the next building, a general store, and hid between a rack of clothes.

28 – Assassin

Larry spit on the dusty road by the Shady Man Saloon.

“Sunflower seeds?”

Larry looked up a he put another handful of seeds into his mouth. A person in a black cape and hood, face shrouded, stood before him. Larry smiled. A customer.

“I need you–”

“Let me see the gold,” Larry said.

The person drew out money from inside the cape, and then withdrew it again.

“Who?” Larry asked.

“A group from Niff. A man, a woman, two boys.”

“I’ll need two assistants. And a few more–”

“Finish the job, get more gold.”

“What’s your name? I like to know who I’m working for, in case the business goes bad.”

“You may call me Apocalypse.”

29: In Which Nothing Happens

30 – This Isn’t Hard

It took awhile for Cecil to find his clothes and weapons and get dressed again, but he finally climbed into the automobile with Nora. The automobile took off with a cough and sputter.

Cecil was frustrated. This journey was all wrong. Adventures should have battles. And villains. That sort of thing. Not stupid little brothers pulling practical jokes.

Cecil cursed. It didn’t make him feel better.

“Cecil, do you want me to get the soap out?” Nora asked.

Cecil sighed. “Sorry. It’s just . . . well, I thought the this adventure would be different. More adventurous, I guess.”

“If it makes you feel better, we’ve been robbed?”

“What?”

“The money we got from King Bidford is almost all gone.”

“That’s more like it. Who do you think robbed us? Should we track them down? Seek revenge?”

“I don’t think we could track them down, dear. We’re a little lost ourselves. We’ll need to stop in the next town to ask for directions, and see if we can find Jake too.”

Cecil brightened. All the heroes in the stories were lost when something exciting happened.

He couldn’t wait for what was around the corner. Hopefully it was a villain or assassin or evil creature. Anything but Jake.

31 – Batewood is a Scary Place

Porter was the one to find Jake, who was eating candy outside the general store.

“How are you?” Porter asked.

“I hate life,” Jake said.

“At least you have candy.” Porter sat next to Jake and popped a piece of candy in his mouth. ”Did you pay for it?”

“Course. No way I’m messing around here. The first person I met is probably an assassin. That doesn’t bode well.”

Jake had been watching the streets for a while. They weren’t the crowded whirlwind Jake was used to in Niff. The automobiles were sleeker, painted in shades of baby blue, dark green, and red. They whirred by with barely a sound. And then there was the occasional horse, which was just odd. There were signs on corners telling automobiles to stop. They always did, and then drove onward with a slow, cautious pace.

No automobiles had collided; no pedestrian or horse was run down; no one went skidding off the road. No one even honked their horn.

Nora and Cecil pulled up in their noisy, black box and parked in the middle of the road. The sleek automobiles quietly passed on either side.

“Hello, Jake,” Cecil said.

Jake glowered, or at least that was his intent. “Cecil, I hope you fail miserably. I hope that your small little intellect will shrivel up and you will do the most idiotic thing in the world and instead of becoming a hero, you will feel like a small, small worm, because that is what you are.”

“Nice to see you too,” Nora said. “We need some supplies. Maybe a map.”

They went into the store.

Jake watched a little old lady with a cane who waited calmly at an intersection to cross the street. Jake looked more closely at her. Was she really a little old lady? Was that hobble real?

A suave yellow car stopped to let the old lady go by. The driver of the car kindly tipped his blue-striped cap to the woman. The passenger nodded slightly.

As the woman got to the end of the street, the passenger poked his head out of the window, as if to say something to the woman. But before he got a word in, the woman pulled the top off her cane, pointed it at the man, and blew in the other side.

A dart went flying through the air and hit the man in the neck.

And then the suave yellow car slowly and calmly pulled away and the old lady went slowly hobbling down the other side of the road.

Jake wished for the thousandth time that he was home.

32 – Directions

Cecil and Nora walked out of the general store. They were talking with an overgrown boy. At least, Nora was talking. Cecil was looking slightly embarrassed. The boy was about the same age as he was, but three inches taller and twenty pounds heavier. The boy wore a blue jumpsuit, making Cecil’s vest, cravat, jacket, and breeches look ridiculous. Cecil tried to make himself be taller, but the straining through his neck made him look like a pigeon.

“So,” Nora said. “You know how to get to the Blue Mountains?”

“Well, I may,” Blue Jumpsuit said. He loomed over Cecil. “But it will cost you something.”

“We’re asking for simple directions,” Nora said. “We’ll try someone else.”

Blue Jumpsuit moved into her path. “Do you know why I’m not working right now?” he said.

“You’re on lunch break?” Nora asked.

“No. Got fired from the mine. I’m a trouble maker, and I don’t let trouble pass without doing something about it.”

“Cecil,” Nora said.

“Mom?” Cecil said.

“Do your thing.”

“What do you mean?”

Blue Jumpsuit cracked his knuckles and smiled.

Cecil took a step back.

“You’re the one with the sword,” Nora said.

“He may have weapons, but he is still a wuss,” Blue Jumpsuit said.

“Do I have to get out of this mess myself?” Nora asked.

“Hold on a second,” Cecil said. He went to draw the sword from his scabbard, but instead, his pants fell down.

Blue Jumpsuit laughed so hard that he didn’t notice as Jake ducked by his feet, fumbled around, and then withdrew, biting into a stolen apple.

Cecil tried to gather up his britches, and Blue Jumpsuit finally advanced. Or at least, he tried to advance, only to find out that Jake had tied his shoelaces together. He promptly fell down in a heap. Cecil pulled his breeches on over his lacy underwear and pointed his sword at Blue Jumpsuit’s neck.

“That ain’t fair,” Blue Jumpsuit said.

“I think I have conquered, you foe,” Cecil said.

He brandished his sword so hard that his breeches fell down again.

33 – Here Be the Unkown

“Cecil,” Jake said. ”You really probably should wear suspenders.” Jake wasn’t about to mention that he had tampered with Cecil’s breeches the night before.

Cecil succeeded in dropping his sword as he gathered up his breeches again.

Blue Jumpsuit tore his shoelaces apart, grabbed the sword, and pointed it at Cecil.

Cecil took a step backward.

“Really?” Jake asked. “How does a great hero surrender his weapon to the enemy?”

“Just shut-up,” Cecil said. “I’ve got this under control.”

Cecil turned to Blue Jumpsuit, but before he could make his move, Jake shouted, “Blue Jumpsuit, are you missing an apple? It fell from your pocket.”

Blue Jumpsuit turned. Jake threw the apple in Blue Jumpsuit’s face, knocking him backwards and causing him to drop Cecil’s sword again.

Cecil quickly picked up the sword, and the group of them hurriedly piled into the automobile and drove off.

Nora stopped just outside of town, where Cecil poured over an ancient piece of parchment that was supposed to be a map. Except for the entire country of Batewood was a bit sketchy, with scrawled words that said, “This may or not be here,” and “Here be the unknown.”

“We’re never going to figure out how to get to the Blue Mountains,” Cecil said.

Jake noticed pale blue mountains looming ahead of them, to the west. How could Cecil be lost? “How about we go east?” Jake said.

“You’ll have to try harder than that,” Porter said. “We’re heading west.”

34 – Mob

“Wherever we go, we better do it fast,” Jake said. He had turned to see that Blue Jumpsuit had gathered a small mob with pitchforks and torches that were quickly heading their way. Among the mob hobbled the little old lady with the cane. She stopped, undid the top of her cane, and pointed the dart shooter right at the back of Cecil’s neck.

The dart left, and Jake watched it as it zoomed through the air, right on target. Closer and closer it came, until a hand reached out and plucked it out of the air, a few inches away from Cecil’s blood vessels.

Cecil started, and turned to see the man who had caught the dart.

The man was dressed all in black, including a mask. “Get into your automobile and follow me if you want to live.”

The mob advanced. The old lady reloaded her dart shooter. Everyone piled into the automobile. Jake and Cecil ended up sharing the bumper seat together, with Nora and Porter in the front. The man in black rode Porter’s motorbike.

A dart hit the seat between Cecil and Jake.

“So,” Jake said. “Why trust a man with a mask?”

Cecil blinked. “Because that man in black saved my life, of course.”

“He may have just saved you from serious maiming, you lump headed buffoon. And serious maiming may actually be good for you. Make you a better person. Maybe straighten your head out.”

“I’m not talking to you,” Cecil said.

“Works for me.”

And the automobile sped off.

35 – Into the Forest

They drove. A few members of the mob hopped in automobiles to follow them. The man in black quickly turned off the pavement to a gravel road that quickly turned into mud and dust. No one followed them.

They were soon surrounded by thick trees, and Jake wasn’t sure if they were on a road or some sort of trail. Eventually, the automobile couldn’t move forward any longer. They piled out. It started to rain.

“Not far now,” the man in the black said. “Just a little further.”

They followed him up the trail until they reached a dead-end. And then the man in black slipped behind thick vines and shrubs into a cave. “Come,” he said.

“Really, people,” Jake said. “I don’t think it’s smart to trust this guy. How about we ditch him?”

“How about you’re not in charge?” Porter said.

“Then who is?”

“Cecil.”

Cecil smiled smugly.

“Really?” Jake said. “I’m a prince and he’s an annoying know-it-all who just had a dart thrown at his face and he gets to be in charge?”

“This is his adventure,” Porter said.

“We go into the cave,” Cecil said.

“Of course we do,” Jake said. “Into certain death.”

But Cecil went in the cave, followed by Nora. Jake would have stayed outside except Porter grabbed his ear and hauled him in.

Jake found Cecil pointing a pistol at the man in black. “What is your name?” Cecil asked. “And how can we trust you?”

“You may call me Lars. I saved your life. That is all you need to know. Friends are hard to come by in Batewood.”

“And you are definitely not our friend,” Jake said.

The man turned and looked at him. “Why are so certain? I can offer your directions and food and safety for a while.”

“Or you could kill us in our sleep,” Jake said.

“Jake, let Cecil talk,” Nora said.

Cecil smiled a smug smile again. “Can you tell us how to get to the Blue Mountains?”

The man smiled. “Yes. But first, you must be hungry. It is dinner time. I have a stash of food here.”

Cecil lowered his pistol.

And the man in black went to a corner of the cave, removed a rock, and pulled out a bag that was conveniently filled with bread, cheese, and wine. Which he placed in front of Cecil, Nora, and Jake. And Cecil and Nora ate. Jake stared at them–didn’t they realize it was probably poisoned?

Jake was smart enough, however, to pretend to eat the food. He was pretty sure Porter was doing the same thing. And then Jake pretended to fall asleep five minutes later, when both Nora and Cecil drifted off. Cecil snored loudly.

The man in the black took off his mask, and Jake watched him through half-closed eyelids. He had seen that man spitting out by the saloon. Larry was his real name. Larry the assassin.

36 – In Which the Main Characters are Assassinated

End of story.

37 – In Which We Pretend Chapter 36 Didn’t Happen

Larry was soon joined by a fat, ugly man who was chewing on a piece of moldy cheese.

“Horace,” Larry said. “This was too easy. I don’t even need you to mess things up.”

“No brunt work?”

“They went down without a fight. Take their weapons away.”

Soon Cecil’s weapons were piled up in a corner. Jake almost wanted to whisper that they had missed a knife in Cecil’s shoe.

“When do they wake up?” Horace asked.

“Antidote,” Larry said, and waived something in front of Jake’s nose. Jake coughed.

Cecil groaned next to him. When Cecil woke up, he found his own sword being pointed in his throat.

Cecil scrambled backward. “What is this?”

“I am an assassin,” Larry said. “I was hired by a person named Apocalypse.”

“You’re going to kill us?” Porter asked, sitting up casually.

“It’s up to Cecil here,” Larry said. “If you return to Niff, no harm will come to you or your family. If not, you die. Apocalypse doesn’t like foreigners.”

“Never!” Cecil shouted with surprising vigor. He kicked out at Larry, causing Larry to drop the sword and fall backwards. Horace went to stop him, but Cecil rammed into him, causing Horace to hit his head against the cave wall. Cecil ran out of the cave.

“Suppose we should follow Cecil,” Nora said. “Nice to meet you, Larry. Though you might want to pick a new occupation. I don’t find assassins very nice.”

And she walked out of the cave. Porter gathered up Cecil’s weapons and followed.

Jake sighed.

38 – Tipsy Again

Jake walked out of the cave. The assassins were still recovering, so he didn’t rush it.

But when he got to where the automobile was supposed to be, it was gone.

They had left him.

He stood staring, not quite sure what to think yet.

“Silly Jake,” said a voice. There was laughter, and suddenly there was that girl. Tipsy. “You’ve been naughty.” She wore a blue shimmering dress that matched the sky.

“Mischief may pay, but only for some.

Jake-boy has had his fair share of fun.

There is time to be clever, and time to be still–

The question is between wisdom and will.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Jake said.

“Be careful,” Tipsy said and disappeared.

39 – Jake Becomes an Assassin

Even though Jake had been abandoned, at least he was out of that infernal automobile. Except for now he was left with the infernal assassins. There was no winning in adventures. Ever.

He didn’t want to decide what to do, so he sat down in the middle of the mud. “I think I’m going to go put my head in a hole and cry and hope that I’m struck by lightning,” he said, to no one in particular.

He waited. Nothing happened, except for he got rather wet and muddy, since it was raining.

And then an automobile drove up. A nice, fancy car.

“Want a lift?” a dark figure said from the automobile.

“You’ll probably kill me, won’t you? All right. Fine.”

And Jake got into the automobile. He looked at the driver. It was Larry. Horace sat shotgun. And was holding a shotgun in his lap.

“You’re pretty pathetic assassins,” Jake said. “Just saying.”

“We could crush you into smithereens,” Larry said. “So you be careful.”

“What are smithereens?” Horace asked.

“You aren’t allowed to think, Horace. You’re the brawn, I’m the brains.”

“But you’re stronger than me.”

“Then I’m the brains and the brawn.”

“What does that make me?”

“That makes you a pig-headed, daft little nuisance,” Jake said. There was a bag of jerky on the front seat. Jake reached out and picked up a piece. It had just the right amount of pepper on it.

“So why is a boy of twelve in the middle of the jungle?” Larry asked.

“I’m thirteen, and this isn’t really a jungle, is it? I mean, it’s much better described as the depths of the place-below-ground, if you take me meaning. And it all started when I ran away from home wanting to join the circus but Cecil was the closest thing I could find.”

Larry nodded, curtly. “But what are you doing here now? Did they leave you? There are dangerous people around.”

“Like you? I mean, you are going to kill me, aren’t you?”

Larry smiled. It was a small, scary sort of smile. “Perhaps.”

“Why do you want to kill me, anyway?” Jake asked.

Larry stopped smiling. “What does it matter?”

Jake shrugged, and finished off the jerky before answering. “Just thought I should know the reason for my death, that’s all. And if it’s because I’ve done something really wrong, I might want to take it up with the Man-in-Sky, you know what I mean?” He reached for another piece.

“We’re assassins,” Larry said. “We get hired. It’s not like we have anything personal. Except for you are eating my food.”

“And it is delicious,” Jake said. “So Apocalypse hired you? Isn’t that name a bit much?”

“We don’t ask questions.”

“Which means there was a lot of money involved, doesn’t it?”

“Course there was.”

“Then why am I not dead?”

“Because, truth be told, Apocalypse told us to leave you alone. Though I may kill you anyway.”

“Not smart,” Jake said.  ”You know, I’ve thought about becoming an assassin myself. I haven’t killed anyone. Or even maimed. But I’ve inflicted minor injuries.”

“So you’re here because you want to join us, then?”

“Or I’m a spy.”

“Shouldn’t a spy be a bit more subtle?”

“Come on. Look at Horace here. Subtlety would be wasted on him.”

Horace had fallen into a deep slumber. He snorted, looked around, and fell asleep again.

“You have a point. But what about me?”

“What about you? Am I supposed to be afraid of you?”

“Generally, I would think yes.”

“Sorry to disappoint.”

“So, do you want to joins us or not?”

“Absolutely.”

Part III

Our story so far:

Jake Prince of Niff (long story) is on an adventure with his family (Cecil, Nora & Porter) to find a magical Silver Feather Jake is certain doesn’t exist. They have arrived in Batewood to look for a clue. The evil, mysterious Apocalypse has hired the assassins Larry & Horace. Cecil, Nora & Porter are on the run, accidentally leaving Jake behind. So Jake joined the assassins.

40 – Automobile Accident

Nora, Cecil, and Porter sped away from the assassins. Cecil was happy. He had a quest: to seek the Silver Feather. He had faithful companions: Porter and Nora. And perhaps Jake. Perhaps not. He had a villain: Apocalypse. Why did Apocalypse hire the assassins? Who was he, really? Cecil dreamed about the day when he would have to face Apocalypse, perhaps on precipice of a volcano, or somewhere otherwise dramatic, and Cecil would overcome his enemy and obtain the great Silver Feather. Yes, this was turning into a proper journey after all.

And then Nora ran the automobile off a cliff and into a tree.

No one was seriously injured, but no one could find Jake. They had all thought he was in the bumper seat.

“We have to look for him,” Nora said. “He must have been thrown off the automobile.”

But Porter shook his head. “I don’t think he ever got on the automobile, Nora.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean that we left him with the assassins.”

They all stood looking at each other. Cecil coughed uncomfortably. “So how does this affect my quest? I mean, do we just keep going?”

“We have to go look for him,” Nora said.

Porter was looking over the wreckage of the automobile. “You won’t be able to get anywhere in this thing anymore. I’ll go back in my motorbike. You and Cecil continue on foot  towards the Blue Mountains. I’ll find Jake and bring him back.”

41 – Lair of the Pretty Lady in the Pretty White Dress

The slick black car of the assassins drove up to a white house. The house, though brightly painted, seemed old to Jake. And creepy in a way that he couldn’t pin down. Something about the angles being off, maybe, or the windows being a little too dark.

Horace and Larry got out of the car. Horace grabbed Jake and dragged him up the steps and to the white front door.

Larry knocked three times, loudly. They waited. He knocked twice. They waited. He knocked once.

A man opened the door. The man was dressed in a black and white jumpsuit which featured a bow-tie and patent leather shoes sticking out of the bottom. He had a white towel hanging on his arm and was wearing black gloves.

He glanced at Jake down the end of his sharp, pointed nose.

“Who is the boy?” he said.

“He’s part of the job,” Larry answered. “Can we see her?”

“Has it become that desperate?” the butler said.

“Is it your job to make judgments?”

“It is my job to turn away those unworthy to see Mrs. Slythe.”

Larry sighed. He reached into his pocket and put a few coins into the outstretched black glove.

“Very good,” the butler said. “You will see her now.”

The house was as white on the inside as it was on the outside, except for it seemed more sterile. There was not a speck of dust to be found, not even in the air where the sun slowly filtered in and shone on thick, glittering white carpet. The walls were white. The frames that were hanging were white. The pictures inside the frames were nothing more than white pieces of paper. The table that the butler brought them to was white. The chairs that they sat on were white. The small little tea cups and saucers were white.

And on the other side of the table, Mrs. Blythe’s skin seemed as white as the rest of the house. She had white hair, though she wasn’t old. She had a white, lacy dress, and the lace from the sleeves dragged across the table as she took a sip from her cup. She took a bite from a white cookie.

And then she looked at Jake, and her eyes were black.

Jake looked into his cup at the white liquid and decided it was most assuredly poison.

42 – Small Talk

“Business going well?” Mrs. Slythe asked.

“Bit slow, actually,” Larry answered. “I mean, this is our first job in months.”

Horace mumbled something, but his face was so full of white cookie that all that came out were crumbs.

“You and Horace have been a team for how long?” Mrs. Slythe asked.

“About three years.”

“Pretty long in this business,” Mrs. Slythe said. “Usually someone clears out the other one for some reason. You aren’t going soft, either of you?” At this, she glanced at Jake with her black eyes, scrutinizing him.

“Course not,” Larry answered. “The only reason we’re both still alive is because we both don’t want to be dead.”

“Why isn’t this boy dead?” she asked.

“Part of the job,” Larry answered.

“Why isn’t Horace dead?”

“He will be soon. He ate your cookies.”

At this, Mrs. Slythe and Larry started laughing. Horace coughed up cookie.

Mrs. Slythe sipped from her tea cup daintily, holding the cup with three fingers. ”You will stay the night. I will assist you in the morning.”

43 – Apocalypse and Mrs. Slythe

“Hello,” Mrs. Slythe said to the dark figure in her doorway. “Apocalypse, is it?”

“How do you–”

“I have some discerning powers. You want to help me? You did hire the assassins, correct?”

“Yes.”

“It’ll cost you.”

“I don’t think so,” Apocalypse said. “Cecil is traveling to find a hermit in the Blue Mountains. You will tell the assassins where to go to find him. That is all.”

“How about I kill you now, on the spot?”

“Please, Mrs. Slythe, I don’t think that’ll be necessary.”

And Apocalypse disappeared into shadow.

44 – Under the Table

Breakfast was a tense affair. No one spoke for a while.

Jake looked at the scone in front of him, and then proceeded to disappear under the table when no one was watching.

It was a rather more intense situation that he had supposed. Larry was holding a knife on his lap. Horace was holding a pistol. Mrs. Slythe had access to a wide assortment of prickly things underneath the table, including a collection of bone-white knifes that Jake almost pricked himself on.

Horace’s legs trembled, but Larry and Mrs. Slythe remained still.

“How about we get down to business,” Mrs. Slythe said. “You obviously want my assistance.”

“We need to know –”

“No words. I know all of it already. They are seeking after a Silver Feather, are they not? I have a map. It shows where you can find them.”

“Can you–”

“The price is four hundred pounds. There is no negotiating.”

Jake coughed.

Mrs. Slythe kicked him.

“I think two hundred is all that will be necessary,” Larry said.

Mrs. Slythe reached under the table, opened a secret compartment, and drew out two small pouches.

“Whatever,” she said.

And at that moment, Horace choked and fell backwards off his chair. Jake could see his face–he looked dead. He hoped that Horace wasn’t dead. But it was the risk you played with assassins, wasn’t it?

There was silence.

And then Larry grabbed his knife and stood up. “Where’s the boy?” he asked. “I think our business is over.”

Then Larry fell down.

He had a dart in the side of his throat.

“Mrs. Slythe,” the butler said, walking in. “Do you need any assistance in finishing them off?”

“Did you get their money?”

“Four hundred pounds. Found it in their usual hiding place.”

“Very good. You’ll place them in their car with the map. But first, there is another matter to attend to.”

45 – An Offer

Then there was a popping sound and the butler fell down to the floor with a dart in his throat.

“Boy, you can come out from under the table now,” Mrs. Slythe said.

Jake crawled out.

Mrs. Slythe sat serenely, sipping her tea.

“Are they dead?” Jake asked.

“Unfortunately, no,” Mrs. Sylthe said. “Though I think I’m the one to ask the questions. How old are you?”

“Thirteen.”

“From Niff?”

“Yes.”

“An important person from Niff, if I am not mistaken?”

“I don’t consider myself of much importance.”

“A prince isn’t important?”

“No. And I’m not much of a prince.”

“Obviously.”

Sip. She drank more tea. Jake noticed a small red dab of color on her collar-bone, and realized it was shining jewel. It was the only amount of color he could see in the room besides the three men that lay around his feet.

“You are an interesting fellow, Jake,” Mrs. Slythe said. “I would be very interested in making you my next partner. The butler, after all, is getting quite boring.”

“I would rather . . .”

“I know, I know. You’re probably not at all interested. Have a sip of tea.”

Jake looked at the white liquid in the cup. ”Thanks, but I better go.”

“But I need some kind of payment, don’t I?”

“You didn’t do anything.”

“I did help you escape from the assassins,” Mrs. Blythe said.

“Frankly, I could have done that on my own.”

She took another sip of tea. “You are probably right. But I just don’t want you wandering off, do I?”

Jake thought that if he was some sort of heroic person, like the hero that Cecil wanted to be, he probably could use some amazing hand-to-hand combat skills or mega-escape moves to get out of there.

As it was, he just turned and ran.

And, quite surprisingly, Mrs. Slythe merely sipped her tea and watched him go.

46 – Tantrum

Jake wasn’t sure what his plan was: go back to the assassins? Try to find his family? Try to hitchhike back to Niff? Lie down in a ditch and die?

“How about you come with me?”

Jake turned, and there was Porter.

“I found you,” Porter said.

“You left me,” Jake said.

“By accident.” Porter raised an eyebrow.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“I’m waiting to see if you throw a temper tantrum,” Porter said. “It would be highly entertaining.”

Jake thought that seemed like the perfect idea. So he threw a nice little fit. He screamed and hollered, kicked a tree, threw himself on the ground, pounded with his fists, kicked at the dirt, and got himself all dirty. He finished it off by ripping grass apart angrily.

“Feel better?” Porter asked.

“Yes.” It was amazing how calming tantrums could be. Jake hadn’t thrown one in a long time, and he found his thoughts pleasantly clear.

“So what happened to you?” Porter asked.

Jake briefly told him about the assassins and Mrs. Slythe.

“At least you’re not dead,” Porter said.

“I love you too. What now?”

“The quickest way to meet up with Porter and Nora without getting lost is to follow the assassins,” Porter said.

“You know that’s almost certain death and definite misery. What about we drive home?”

“Not today,” Porter said.

Jake sighed. “At least I get to ride your motorbike.”

 

47 – The Hermit

The hermit was waiting. None yet had come for the clue that he possessed.

He was not a typical hermit, if there is such a thing as a typical hermit. But if there was, he would not fit the mold. He didn’t wear a robe of some sort and sit solemnly on the rock-faces meditating. He did spend a lot of time doing his air, with a little grease to keep it shiny.

His hut wasn’t really a hut. It was definitely more like a house, and even had indoor plumbing and electricity that had just been installed two years ago. He had a neatly tailored yard and garden, and his house was painted a bright blue color.

The hermit wore jumpsuits every day, and enjoyed fixing automobiles in his rather large garage. And, in fact, many people would drive up the mountain roads in order to have him fix their automobiles.

But no one had heard him speak.

At least, no one in recent memory quite clearly remembered anything he had said to them.

The hermit, who wasn’t really too old, somewhere around the age of 50, was in his garage, fixing an automobile as he usually did. It was a bright morning.

“So you’re the hermit who has the clue to find the silver feather?”

The hermit turned around, and wiped his greasy hands on a handkerchief.

“If you are, you’re not supposed to talk. I’m Apocalypse.”

The hermit simply waited.

“So, would you give me the clue if I asked for it?”

The hermit shrugged.

“How about we have a cup of tea?” Apocalypse asked.

The hermit shrugged again, and the beckoned into the house.

48 – Tea with Apocalypse

A few cookies and crumpets later, the hermit in sat back on his chair and gave a contented sigh. “You have a weird name,” the hermit said.

“I thought you couldn’t talk,” Apocalypse said back.

“I blew it. You aren’t affiliated with Cecil?”

“The only affiliation I have with him is as archenemy. How do you know about Cecil, anyway?”

The hermit zipped his lips shut.

“Someone pay you a lot of money?”

The hermit shrugged.

“Right. But if I had the money too–”

“I’m under contract.”

“That is problematic. And I suppose the terms of the contract specify that you can’t talk about the terms of the contract?”

The hermit shrugged.

“This is perplexing, isn’t it? Someone told you about Cecil already. And you can’t tell me.”

“I can fix your automobile.”

“I actually prefer a combination of gliding and flying. And by the way, these crumpets are wonderful. Can I ask you one more question?”

The hermit shrugged.

“Do you really know where the Silver Feather is? And how?”

“That was two questions.”

“Whatever. Cecil will probably be along in a little while. Do you mind telling him I was here?”

“For the right price.”

“I think this will cover it. I want more crumpets.”

And when Apocalypse walked away, his pockets were filled with crumpets instead of coins.

49 – Annoyed

Jake woke up. And there in front of his face was the girl. Tipsy.

“Not you again,” Jake said.

Tipsy laughed. She almost seemed to disappear in the dew, wearing a dress that seemed to be made of grass and drops of water.

“No, don’t sing,” Jake said. “I don’t want to hear it. Why do you keep following me around?”

“I’m your muse.”

“How about you go be Cecil’s muse? He’s the hero, after all.”

Tipsy laughed again. “I like you.”

“But he would like some crazy appearances by a weird girl apparition a lot better than I would.”

But she had already disappeared.

Jake, for a moment, wondered if he were perhaps just going completely and utterly crazy. But, he decided, that would be a bit optimistic, wouldn’t it?

50 – Attack

“Jake,” Porter said, suddenly appearing out of the forest. “Cecil and Nora got here late last night.”

“Finally,” Jake said. They had been camping outside of the hermit’s repair shop for days and Jake was getting sort of bored.

Jake hopped up and followed Porter back to a clearing. Cecil and Nora were still sleeping.

Jake pulled some twine out his pocket.

“What are you doing?” Porter asked as Jake went over to Cecil and started trying Cecil up with the twine.

Jake just shrugged.

Porter sighed.

It was then that they heard a twig snap. Jake left Cecil and hurriedly climbed a tree. Porter disappeared into the another tree.

Larry and Horace were coming into the clearing. They had drawn out long, thin knifes. Or rapiers. Or small swords. Jake still wasn’t sure what they were, and he really didn’t want to ask.

What spectacular timing.

Before the assassins got there, Cecil was poked in the eye with a rather long stick. Cecil gave a great cry, trying to grab at his eyeball, but since he was tied in twine, he only succeeded in awkwardly flailing.

Jake traced the stick back to Nora, who had quietly woken up.

“What’s going on?” Cecil said, in a slur, and finally looked up to see the two men approaching him.

The assassins moved quickly towards Cecil, who was still tied up in twine. Nora ran towards Cecil too, and since she was closer to the assassins, was able to reach him first, quickly breaking the twine that held his hands and arms and handing him his sword.

Porter lowered himself from a tree.

There commenced fighting. Jake observed from the treetop, though he tried not to look. Fighting was such an icky thing. He tried to think about anything else than the clanging pieces of metal. When Jake was eight, there was a big kid in the neighborhood  who picked on everyone smaller than him. But when big kid tried to pick on Jake, the big kid found his shoes tied together, his breaches down, and his underwear flailing in the wind.

The memory lasted long enough that when Jake finally glanced down again, he found the assassins in retreat.

Larry had a large gash on his arm that was bleeding.

“Hey Larry,” Jake called from the tree. “Aren’t you supposed to be better as this whole assassin thing? You’ve gone at them twice.”

“Quiet,” Larry said. “Let us retreat in a stylish fashion or I will throw this knife at you.”

“Right-o,” Jake said. “Well, tally-hoe. Have a wonderful day.”

And the assassins continued running.

Jake waited for a few minutes before climbing down the tree, though when he came closer, Cecil was still brandishing the sword.

“Cecil, you dim-witted sleaze ball, put that away before you hurt someone,” Jake said.

Cecil put the sword down. “The assassins didn’t finish you off?” he asked.

“Unfortunately for you, no. Did you want them to?”

“Well . . . I . . .” Cecil stuttered for a moment.

“Cecil, be nice to your brother,” Nora said offhandedly. “It’s nice to see you again, Jake.”

51 – The Next Clue

Cecil had finally found the hermit. He was one step closer to finding the Silver Feather. He stood outside the repair shop. Not quite what he had been expecting. The hermit walked outside.

“I am Cecil,” he said. “I seek the Silver Feather. You have information I need.”

The hermit nodded, and the beckoned to Cecil.

Cecil followed. They went inside, and there, covered in grease, was a scrap of paper. The hermit gave it to Cecil with a smile.

Cecil read the red ink (or was it blood?):

Apocalypse was here.

A chill ran down his spine. “That’s it?” he asked. “What about the clue.”

The hermit gestured for Cecil to turn the piece of paper over.

In faded letters, this is what it said:

Go to the assassin’s son.

His greatest treasure is where you should begun.

Cecil read it aloud.

“Seriously?” Jake said. “That is the worst clue I’ve ever heard.”

“What does it mean?” Cecil asked.

“No sense of grammar or meter,” Jake continued. “The rhyme is forced. And it takes no effort to figure out. We’re going to King Charles, of course. And certain death.”

“Isn’t everything on this journey certain death for you?” Porter asked. “You haven’t died yet.”

Jake shrugged. “It’s only a matter of time.”

52 – A Lesson

They were travelling again. They had bought an old automobile from the hermit that looked just about like the old one. And Jake was again on the bumper seat.

They hadn’t seen the assassins since, and Cecil was sure that they had been chased away for good. Jake was more pessimistic.

“They’ll probably actually kill us next time,” Jake said. “And if they don’t, someone else will.”

They were stopped for a lunch of Nora’s usual inedible mush.

“No thanks to you,” Porter said. “You’re the one who joined the assassins.”

“Only because you left me with them.”

“But you’re a horrible assassin anyway. You can’t even wield a weapon to save your life,” Porter said. “Except for water balloons.”

“I’m proud of that fact,” Jake said. “I have no idea how a pistol works and I would like to keep it that way.”

“Jake, that simply won’t do,” Nora said. “Cecil can teach you.”

“Or I can not,” Cecil said.

“No, I think you should,” Nora continued. “It’d do you both some good.”

“No way,” Jake said. “I’m not learning.”

“Do you want to get yourself killed?” Porter asked.

“Learning how to use a pistol isn’t going to help that,” Jake said.

“Do it,” Porter said. “And Jake, I’ll let you ride with me on the  motorbike tomorrow. And Cecil, I’ll  let you drive the motorbike for a minute.”

Jake glared at Cecil. Cecil glared back at Jake.

“Fine,” they both said.

Cecil whipped out a pistol and started rattling off about bullets and explosions and fire and this that and the other. Jake couldn’t make heads and tells of it.

“And that’s how you load a gun,” Cecil said.

He offered the pistol to Jake.

“Now way I’m touching that,” Jake said.

Cecil kept the pistol outstretched.

“Fine,” Jake said. He gingerly grabbed it with a thumb and finger.

Cecil showed him how to hold it, so his finger was on the trigger.

“I really shouldn’t be doing this,” Jake said.

“You just need to aim and fire,” Cecil said. “When you aim, make sure this thing and those things line up. You get it?”

Jake raised the pistol and pointed it in the general direction of a tree. His arm was shaking. Violently.

“You have to open your eyes,” Cecil said.

“No way,” Jake said.

“No you’re pointing it at Mom,” Cecil said.

“Is this better?”

“Now you’re pointing it at me,” Cecil said.

“Where’s the trigger again?”

“Jake, don’t kill your brother,” Nora said.

Jake lowered the gun. “I am so done with this.”

“You have to at least shoot one shot,” Porter said.

So Jake raised the gun and pulled the trigger.

 

53 – In Which No One Dies

The bullet whizzed past Cecil and hit a tree.

“I think we’re done with that,” Nora said, grabbing the gun from Jake.

“And how about we don’t do that again,” Jake said.

“Good idea,” Porter said.

Cecil was gaping at Jake. “You almost shot me.”

Jake shrugged. “Too bad I didn’t.”

“What is with you?” Cecil said. “Why do you hate me so much?”

“I think our hatred is mutual, don’t you?”

“I don’t try to kill you.”

“And I don’t either. If I did, you would be dead, Cecil. I can guarantee it.”

Jake slumped over to the bumper seat of the automobile. The sooner they got to King Charles, the better.

54 – A Meeting

Cecil awoke. It was dark outside. His throat and mouth were particularly dry, and he wondered what had awakened him.

“Cecil,” a high, raspy whisper said.

Cecil sat up. His blanket was covered in wet dew, and his face was slightly damp, though he wasn’t sure if it was from the dew or from a cold sweat. A chill ran down his spine.

“Cecil,” the voice said again.

“Who’s there?” Cecil asked. His hand went to his sword.

His sword wasn’t there. Neither were any of his weapons.

Cecil was suddenly alert. He stood up, searching and searching for the voice. He could see Nora, Porter, Arrow, and Jake all sleeping soundly, their bodies covered in blankets.

“Cecil,” the voice said one more time.

“Who’s there?” Cecil said again.

“Apocalypse.”

The chill down his spine grew. “Where are you?” Cecil asked. He still couldn’t see anyone.

“In your nightmares, Cecil.”

“What do you want?”

“I want you to abandon your quest.”

There was a twig that broke, and a fluttering, and Cecil whirled around. He saw a corner of a dark cloak.

“You hired the assassins?” Cecil asked.

“That was just phase one,” Apocalypse said. His voice seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere and Cecil whirled around, trying to spot it.

“And what next?”

“Cecil, you will never get the Silver Feather while I am around,” Apocalypse said. “All you will get is misery. Give up before it’s too late.”

And then a bundle dropped from the tree above him. Cecil’s sword and the rest of his weapons landed on his feet.

And then, silence.

Cecil didn’t know where Apocalypse had come from, or where he had gone. He stood, trying to hear anything, but all he could hear was wind and the eerie hooting of an owl.

55 – In Which There is an Explosion

Cecil had slept in, so Jake drew all over his face with coals from the fire, spelling the word Idiot across his forehead.

“I had a weird dream,” Cecil said when he finally opened his eyes. “Something about Apocalypse. Wait, no, it wasn’t a dream. He came to me, in the night.”

“He was here?” Nora asked.

“Yeah,” Cecil said. “He wants me to give up. But I won’t. Not in a million years.”

“I don’t think you’ll live that long,” Jake said.

Porter went to go start the automobile. But instead of starting, there was a large popping sound and a large cloud of smoke came out of the engine of the automobile. Then the engine burst into flames.

Porter ran away from it. “Guess your archenemy is good at breaking automobiles,” he said to Cecil.

Cecil looked at the flames. “But . . . but . . .”

“We may want to move away,” Nora said.

They all took a few steps back and hid behind a large boulder, except for Cecil, was still stuttering. The flames grew. The automobile exploded. Not a huge explosion, but enough to knock Cecil flat on his back.

Jake walked over to him once the flames had subsided a bit.

“You dead?” Jake asked.

Cecil groaned. “Ouch,” he said.

“Dag nab it,” Jake said. “You’re not even really injured, are you?”

Nora walked over and helped Cecil to his feet.

“That Apocalypse will pay,” Cecil said. “That was an attempt on my life. And how are we going to get to King Charles now?”

“Hitchhike,” Porter said. Coming down the road was a truck. In the back of the truck were chickens.

And so, half a day later, they found themselves being deposited outside of the palace of King Charles, half-pecked to death and covered in feathers and bird poo.

And Cecil still had the word Idiot  across his forehead.

 

56 – An Argument

“Can I tell my own story already?” Jake says.

“What do you mean?” the narrator asked. “Haven’t I been doing a good job?”

“No,” Jake said. “I’ve been bored half to death.”

“What about the illustrations?”

“You need to make Cecil look more like a buffoon.”

“Whatever. I don’t think I trust you with telling your own story.”

“Well, I definitely don’t trust you. You’ve already ruined parts of it.”

“Come on, I’ve told it like it is.”

“Exactly. That’s your problem.”

“You just can’t lie when you’re telling a story.”

“Why not?”

“Um . . . I’m not sure.”

“Hah! So let me tell it.”

“I’m still not sure . . .”

“Give me a chance. Just one chance.”

“Fine. But if people don’t like it, I’m resuming control.”

“We have a deal.”

57 – This Is Where the King Lives

So. Jake speaking here. I’m jumping in, in media res, you could say. But I wouldn’t say it that way, because that’s way too complex. I would just say I’m jumping into the middle of things.

So. We were standing in front of King Charles’ Palace. It screamed, this is where the King lives! It was in the middle of the city, on top of a small hill, and it was huge. There were towers here and there, one of them still being constructed.

Batewood had lots of tall, important-looking buildings, though none quite so large as the Palace. The city also had lots of tall, important-looking people. dressed in stiff, modern suits.

You could tell people thought they were important–all the women wore jewels and high-heels.  They even had coats on, fur coats, and it wasn’t even winter.

I couldn’t see a single beggar. I couldn’t see a single street rat boy playing marbles in the sideline. I couldn’t even see sewage, nor could I smell it. In fact, it smelled like flowers and peppermint.

Automobiles drove slowly and everything seemed in perfect order.

No one seemed to notice as one man in an especially nice suit with a very purple bow-tie was carefully dragged to an alleyway by two-men in dark clothes with hats on. No on noticed as those same two men emerged again carrying a large bag between the two of them that looked very much like it could contain a body.

There also seemed to be an absence of anyone who could do much about it–no one carried weapons. No one was dressed in any official-looking uniform. No soldiers, no police.

This was a decidedly strange city. We were decidedly looking very much out-of-place. We were the only ones filthy. We were the only ones who looked lost. Cecil and Porter were the only ones with weapons showing.

We were going to die.

58 – Suicide

“I am not going in there,” I said. Last time I was in the house of a king, things hadn’t turned out too well. “And you can’t make me.”

This is what I didn’t do. I didn’t take off all my clothes and go streaming through the streets yelling obscenities. If someone was feeling especially bloodthirsty, that wouldn’t turn out well.

What I did do was climb. I am good at climbing, after all, and it can be a good way to escape, since people don’t tend to look up. I climbed up the rain gutters and upset a black cat that clawed my arm, but finally made it to the rooftop where I sat on the edge. I would stay up here while they went into the king and life would be good.

“Jake get down,” Porter said.

I sighed. “Just go on,” I yelled back. “Leave me alone.”

But they stood looking up at me. Which was a very big mistake, since others turned to see what they were looking at.

“Are you going to jump?” a man in the suit yelled up on me.

“What?” I said back. “No.”

But he didn’t believe me. “Someone’s committing suicide,” he yelled out. And a crowd gathered. Not a very big crowd, more like a group of fifteen people or so. Some other people looked up at me and shrugged, then went about their business, as if someone crashing down to the dirt and breaking their neck wasn’t too out of the ordinary.

Yeah. It was supposed to be a good idea, but it had totally backfired on me. Guess I had to make the best of it.

59 – What is the Meaning of Life?

“What’s your name?” a person yelled. He wore a brown suit with a very thin, long tie and a straw hat. And, if I squinted, it looked like he had a gold badge on his lapel.

“What’s it to you?” I yelled down.

“I’m a  sheriff,” he yelled back. “It’s my job to know.”

“I don’t care.”

And the sheriff proceeded to climb up the building until he was sitting next to me.

“Oh,” he said. “Sorry, but I thought you were a girl.”

So my voice wasn’t really deep all the time. It was getting there. Sort of.

“Why do you want to jump?” the sheriff asked.

“Uh.”

“Look, I get you. In this country, you either die or live. Living seems enticing, but then you wonder what the purpose of life is, right? Do you know the purpose of life?”

“Don’t you people go to church?” I asked.

“Not usually. But this is what I figure. If I can’t come up with the purpose of life, and I’m having to risk random poison darts or knifes in my back, then what’s the point? I mean, the only thing that’s bad about death is the pain, but there’s so much pain in life anyway, death seems the better option, right?”

“Aren’t you supposed to convince me to climb down safely?”

“Oh, by no means. I came up here to take the fall with you, if you take my drift.”

“You serious?” I asked. I was beginning to think this country was insane.

“As serious as you,” he said.

“I wouldn’t ever want to kill myself.”

“Then why are you up here?”

“I wanted to escape and not be noticed by people.”

“Oh. Sort of backfired, didn’t it? Well, nice talking to you.”

And he proceeded to throw himself from the building.

60 – Crisis Averted

The sheriff would have fallen to his death or at least fallen to his serious injury if I hadn’t managed to grab his arm as he went flying down. There were great cries in the crowd, and maybe a few screams.

“Mister, please climb back up,” I said. “I’m going to drop you soon if you don’t.”

“Just drop me,” the sheriff said back.

“How about you climb back up, we talk it through, and then you can jump again if you life? Besides, it probably wouldn’t kill you anyway, just put you in a lot of pain.”

And grumbling, the sheriff climbed back up. He panted for a while, cursed a few times, and then looked at me darkly. “You know, my wife left me two weeks ago. Took the kids too. Said I wasn’t a good husband. What is this purpose of life anyway?”

“Happiness, I guess.”

“And how do I get happy?”

“Lots of ways. I’m not very good at it. What made you happy before?”

“My family did.”

“Then get them back.”

The sheriff thought for a while. “Yeah, I guess I could. Become a better husband and father too. It’s at least something to work towards.” He looked at me. “Well, thanks for saving my life.”

And we climbed down together.

The crowd had dispersed by the time we got down, and I couldn’t see Cecil, Nora, or Porter. Wonderful. I could finally make my escape.

61 – Arrested

And then someone tapped me on my shoulder. I turned to find Porter. He had managed to buy a completely new set of clothes and looked like he was from Batewood.

“Hullo,” I said. ”How are you?”

“Well, Nora and Cecil have been arrested,” Porter said.

“Pleasant day, isn’t it?”

“Cecil told everyone that he was the King’s Hero from Niff, so they took him to King Charles.”

“Perfect day for sight-seeing, don’t you think?”

“You’ll probably be arrested shortly as well.”

“On the other hand, I might go for a short jog.”

But the sheriff had held a short, whispered conversation with a man who had a small gold star on his lapel. And once he was done, the sheriff went up to me and handcuffed me.

“Really?” I asked. “You’re arresting me? I just saved your life.”

“Sorry,” the sheriff said. “But you’re Jake, aren’t you?”

“Nope.”

“You match his description. Tell me, why are you covered in feathers and chicken poo?”

“Allergies.”

“And why are you wearing those ragged clothes?”

“New clothes give me a rash.”

But he proceeded to handcuff me anyway. Porter had disappeared, but I had a feeling that he hadn’t gone too far away.

62 – Disclaimer

I thought I was going to be led into the big building in front of me. But I wasn’t. I guess that building was some sort of decoy, because it turns out, it was not where the King lived.

The sheriff took me to a small, run-down. dingy building a few blocks down. We went inside. The inside totally did not match the outside: it was exquisitely furnished, with gold trim,  purple fabrics, gigantic tassels, and huge frames with expensive paintings inside. The furnishings screamed that though the building looked small, it was incredibly important and you better not forget that.

I was patted down for weapons (I had ever carried a real weapon in my life), and then directed inside a small room to the left. In the room there was a small desk with a man behind it, scribbling hurriedly with a feather quilt that he was constantly dipping in ink. Cecil and Nora were also there, both in handcuffs.

“Are they all here now?” the man behind the desk asked.

Porter slipped in behind me, without handcuffs.

“We are now,” he said.

The sheriff shut the door and locked it behind him.

The man continued scribbling. “King Charles requests your presence. However, under subsection 42(b)(iii), instead of seeing the King, you have the following options: prison for a year, army service for two years, or run out of the country with pitchforks and burning torches, some of which may be thrown in your direction.”

“But–” Cecil began.

“I wouldn’t protest,” the man said, not bothering to look up.  ”It’s the best I could do for you.”

“We shall see the King,” Cecil said.

The man stopped scribbling and looked up.

“No one ever wants to see the king. Except the rare suicidal person, but we usually get them a cup of tea and nice puppy to play with until they are feeling better. Do you need a puppy?”

“No. I am not suicidal. I want to see King Charles.”

“Really?”

“Yes.”

The man signed. He opened a drawer and rummaged through until he found a long scroll of paper, opened it, and started reading.

“By accepting to see King Charles, you are hereby exempting yourself and all other parties with you from any claim against the King, and you cannot blame Batewood for your probable and eventual death, and that the method of death may not be protested and disagreed to. You further agree that you will not retaliate in any way, and if you do, you will be shot in the foot with an arrow and then slowly starved to death in prison. Also, if and when you are killed by anyone or anything, on purpose or accident, you or your family or your employer or your government have no claim against the government of Batewood and your death will be cited as an unfortunate accident. Furthermore, you agree that you do not want to assassinate or attack King Charles, whether by poison, sword, knife, bow, arrow, sledge hammer, barrage of insults, a large piece of coal, introducing a strange disease, wrapping a cord around his neck, pricking him repeatedly with a fork, or any other means you may come up with. Do you agree to all the above terms and further testify that you do not want to assassinate the King and are currently in perfect health? Say yes.”

“Yes,” Cecil said.

“Good. You just agreed for all your companions as well. I hope you a quick and painless death, or least one that doesn’t involve a lot of shrieking. It messes with my work.”

63 – King Charles

We were covered in feathers and chicken stuff and smelled quite awful, and there we were, heading to see a murderous king. There were two rather skittish guards who opened the doors for us just enough for us to squeeze through, as if a fire-breathing dragon were in that room who might gobble them up. And there was nothing I could do but go into the room. They had sharp pointy things, after all.

The guards quickly closed the doors and locked them for good measure. It was a larger room, though not near as large as the throne room in Niff.

Cecil stood straight, walking forward, though he was still handcuffed, unarmed, and looked quite pathetic. The posture came across more like he was idiotically full of himself.

There was one man in the room. He was wearing pants, but no shirt, stockings, or shoes. His hair, both on his face and his head, was long, curly, and very bushy. I wouldn’t have thought he was a king, except for his gray eyes: they stared out at us with power and authority.

“The question,” he said softly, “is who are you? And why are you idiotic enough to walk into this fiery volcano that is about to explode?”

“I am the King’s Hero from Niff and I . . . I . . .” Cecil was loosing his train of thought. Mostly because King Charles there was taking a knife and carefully slicing a beetle into small segments. It was the sort of knife that could chop my head off. The beetle was rather large and oozed onto the blade.

“You were saying?” King Charles said.

“I . . . I . . .”

“Name?”

And, like magic, Cecil forgot his name. He just stuttered.

“It’s Dung-Face,” I said.

64 – Death is Inevitable

“Interesting name. We’ll put it on your tombstone,” King Charles said.

Cecil whimpered. His resolve was quickly melting and I think he had forgotten all about the Silver Feather.

“Well,” King Charles continued, “This is the time where I rage.” He looked quite happy about it. “I throw a huge fit, maybe end up throwing sharp objects or hard blunt objects, whatever suits my mood. I don’t like foreigners. You are officially and unofficially sentenced to death.”

He threw the knife at the floor. It landed, quivering, right next to Cecil’s foot.

I was pretty sure at this point, Cecil tried to make a heroic speech. But came out more of a mixture of a plea for mercy and an intelligible bit of stuttering. It was sad.

“I hate this country,” I interrupted, just as Cecil was making pleas that he would serve King Charles forever. There was no way I would be begging. Not today.

“What was that?”

“You heard me,” I said. What had I got to lose? “I hate this country. I hate you, King Charlie. I hate your sheriff. I hate the assassins here.”

“Are you through?” King Charles said.

“Not nearly. You know what, King Charlie-boy, you aren’t big enough to dress yourself and you look like a filthy mangy piece of muck. You are completely inept. Killing people left and right for no reason. Making false assumption like the complete idiot that you are. You are slime King Charlie–no, you are worse than slime.”

“Do you want to die?” King Charles said again.

“Of course I do! This country is a place for dying. Who would ever want to live in this place? I would rather be a starving beggar in any other country than live in Batewood. The people are rich, but completely unhappy. And you have no strength and no power, just a whole lot of empty words and empty ambitions. I don’t want to keep on this stupid adventure. Heroes don’t exist. Villains don’t exist either, though if they did, you wouldn’t be one, King Charlie. You’re too slow and too dumb and too full of yourself.”

At this point, Cecil was silently weeping to himself. Nora looking slightly worried. Porter was looking at me with exasperation.

Now we really were going to die. But it felt good to get that off my chest anyway.

65 – Laughter

But the strangest thing happened. King Charles laughed. He laughed so hard that he fell to his knees, grabbing his stomach and gasping for breath.

Laughter? Life was strange.

The laughter lasted so long that I decided to pull up a chair and make myself comfortable. Finally, King Charles contained himself and looked at me.

“What is you name?” he asked.

“Jake,” I said.

“Jake, you are hereby made Prince of Batewood.”

66 – Prince of Batewood

I had entered the lair of a fiery dragon and instead of dying, I was . . . I was . . .

“Say again?” I said.

“You will be Prince of Batewood,” King Charles said. He threw a small figurine to the ground, where it broke into a thousand pieces. He seemed to like throwing things.

Before Cecil’s brain froze, he managed to get in a large outburst. “You can’t make him prince! What about me! I’m the ambassador! I even like your country, or sort of, and he hates you and hates this country and doesn’t want any fame or glory. And you make him prince? He can’t even hold a sword properly. I’m the prince you want!”

The outburst from Cecil ended with him collapsed in a heap and panting for breath, clinging at King Charles’ feet. Charles kicked him off. “Dung-face, you use too many exclamation points,” King Charles said. He threw a broken chair, breaking it even more.

Cecil blubbered.

“Dag nab it,” I said as loud as I could. Then I said it again, even louder. “Why ever would you make me prince?”

“Because you have a lot of spirit, my boy,” King Charles said. “And bravery. And you’re the only one in the whole world who would have said those things to me. You know what would be best to bring stability to the country. That deserves recognition. That deserves honor. Mr. Bailiff!” King Charles called.

The door to the room opened. The man who had been scribbling  at the large desk came in, still holding a scroll and pen.

“Make a note. Jake, formerly of Niff, is now Prince of Batewood and my rightful heir to the throne and such and such.” He threw a paperweight at the bailiff.

“Yes sir,” Mr. Bailiff said, and he scribbled it down.

67 – King of Two Countries

“Wait,” I said. “I have to be king?”

“That is the nature of being prince,” King Charles continued. He threw a small cat, who landed on her feet.

“I can’t be king.”

“Why not? You don’t have to king right away, heavens no. Just when I die.”

“Can you live forever?”

“I would love to. I’m having my magicians work on it. However, in case that doesn’t happen. . . Oh, and I should add, you’ll have to fight for your throne. A lot of power-hungry assassins here will probably want to kill both me and you know and take over.”

I groaned. I couldn’t be king. I couldn’t be king of both Niff and Batewood, either. That was totally wrong. And messed up. And awful. Just ignore it, I told myself. Pretend it isn’t happening.

I closed my eyes. I took a deep breath. I wanted to cry. I really, really wanted to cry, but since Cecil was doing enough crying for five people, it wouldn’t be right. I took another deep breath and counted to ten, and then to twenty, and then to thirty. I finally go myself under control.

“We should have a formal ceremony,” King Charles said.

Last time I did anything formal, I ended up being covered in lace. That was not going to happen again.

“How about we skip all that?” I asked.

King Charles scratched his beard. “You have a point. That would mean that I would have to put on my best coat. And the last person who dressed me in my best coat ended up in a river. I threw him in it, because I hate my best coat. Onward to business. Bailiff!”

68 – Northern Fish

“Yes?” the Mr. Bailiff asked.

King Charles liked to yell. “Please give Prince Jake–” (I shuddered) “–an overview of current events.”

Mr. Bailiff turned on his monotone voice. “The fish in the northern region are feared to be contaminated by a strange form of –”

“Not that!” King Charles said. He grabbed a chair and threw it in Mr. Bailiff’s direction. “Nevermind. Leave!” He then had what appeared to be a tantrum. That guy had issues.

“Uh . . .” I said. “Can we go?”

“Whatever. Go wherever you want. Be back in a week.”

“Six weeks.”

“Two weeks.”

“Never.”

“Just get out of my sight.”

And we did.

69 – A Very Large Bed

Of course, the first thing that Cecil wanted to do once we got out of there was to find King Charles’ treasury.

“We need to go to the treasury,” Cecil said to Mr. Bailiff.

“How about we go find somewhere to eat and sleep instead?” I said. I wanted to be done with the day.

Mr. Bailiff wrote, and then handed us a slip of paper. “Here is where you can stay for the night,” he said.

“But the treasury–”

“Prince Jake suggested you retire for the day, and so that is what you will do. He is the only one with authority.”

I smiled. Cecil glared at me.

And thus we ended up in comfortable rooms for the night and didn’t have to eat Nora’s mush. We had steak and potatoes, actually. It was wonderful. They gave me the biggest, most comfortable bed I had ever seen. I could enjoy it. But just for a very small moment, and then I would run away and hopefully never be heard of in Batewood again.

70 – The Treasury

Apocalypse whispered to the guard at the door of the treasury, and the guard let him in.

The treasury room was not as large as he had expected–it seemed that King Charles was one who would rather spend then save. The clue was easily found folded within an old, tarnished goblet covered with emeralds.

Apocalypse took out the clue and read it. He frowned. Someone had put the clue there, and put it there recently. He was sure of it. Which means that Cecil wasn’t his only enemy–there was someone who knew exactly where the Silver Feather was. And Apocalypse needed to find that person. The clues weren’t necessary anymore.

He put the piece of parchment in his mouth, chewed, and swallowed. No one would know what that would say. No one would be able to go to the next step–except for him.

Suddenly, there was laughter. Apocalypse whirled around.

A girl, dressed in an emerald-green dress. She giggled again. “Silly Apocalypse,” she said. “You’ll never win.”

“Tipsy?” Apocalypse asked.

But she danced away and disappeared.

71 – Part IV

Our story so far:

Jake was made Prince of Niff and was forced on a journey with his brother, Cecil, and parents, Porter and Nora. In search of a magical Silver Feather, they headed off to Batewood, where a mysterious enemy named Apocalypse hired assassins (named Horace and Larry). They escaped from the assassins, found a hermit who gave them a clue to go to the treasury of King Charles. The murderous King Charles made Jake Prince of Batewood (awkward). Then Apocalypse stole the clue from the treasury.

Have I missed anything important?

I think not.

The story will resume shortly.

72 – In the Treasury

We made it inside the treasury. I was going to call Cecil, Nora, and Porter thieves and traitors to the crown, and thus get them arrested again, but Nora sweet-talked the guard into letting us in before I had a chance to. I was still sleeping on my comfortable bed. Which means that I didn’t even witness the scene as Cecil found the goblet with the following note tucked inside:

When I saw Cecil, he was still sitting in a dazed stupor, staring at he note. He hadn’t even left the treasury.

I looked at the note. “Well, how about we just give up and go home?” I said. It seemed a logical thing to do.

But Cecil was not logical. At all. He looked at me, tightening his lips. “No,” he said, in a deep, determined voice that also sounded slightly crazed. “We go forward.”

“But we don’t have anywhere to go now, do we?” I asked.

Cecil thought for a moment, and then stood up. “We go to my teacher,” he said. “We go to Arg. He will tell us what to do.”

 

73 – Flashback

Five years ago, there was an advertisement in the newspaper:

Wanted: Strapping young boy for hero training. Demonstration and interview Thursday morning, in front of fruit stand.

Cecil had shown the advertisement to Nora, who had asked me if I wanted to go too. I had some other plans that may have involved digging a big hole and watching people fall into it. I refused.

There had been a man there. His name was Rodolfo, and he did some impressive swordplay and marksmanship. And then he had chosen Cecil. Mostly because Cecil was the only one who had shown up. Porter and Nora talked about it, and Nora decided to go with Cecil to train in Arg.

I thought it would only be a few days. Days turned into weeks turned into years.

The last thing Nora said to me was, “I’ll see you soon.”

 

74 – Ambushed

We all got into our automobile to head to Arg, and I was just planning on sleeping most of the way there.

I didn’t notice the approach of the other automobile. I didn’t notice the five large, burly men carrying pistols and black sticks that were meant for hitting someone on the head and knocking them out.

In fact, they didn’t have to knock me out because I was already asleep.

The next thing I knew, I was watching Cecil use his arsenal of weapons in an attempt to fight all five men at once. Two men were pointing guns at him, but he moved in quickly with a long knife, disarming them. Then his sword cut through those black sticks. Another man raised his gun and fired.

I closed my eyes. I hated fighting and gore. It’s part of the reason I hated Cecil, since he seemed to think that having a sword made him a hero. But he still didn’t have a brain, and he still was no hero.

I finally dared to open my eyes when I didn’t hear any cries of pain. The bullet had missed.

“Put down your weapons and no one gets hurt,” one of the men said, which seemed to me quite an unoriginal thing to say.

Cecil started putting down his weapons, but he seemed intent on making a speech. “I demand to know the reason for this. I am a King’s Hero and we have the protection from King Charles himself. I have traveled long and hard in my quest and you people cannot stop me–”

That was when they hit him over the head, which was a good thing, because he had almost lulled me off to sleep again.

75 – You Are Under Arrest

“Who are you and what do you want?” Porter asked.

“You are under arrest,” the man holding me said.

“Why?”

“A number of items were stolen from the treasury.”

“But he’s Prince of Batewood,” Nora said, pointing to me.

“Doesn’t matter. The orders have been issued. Unless we receive the treasure, the punishment will be carried out.”

“No trial?” Porter asked.

“There are no trials in this country. We follow the orders of the King.”

“What’s the punishment?” Porter said.

“Torture. You’ll see.”

And we all piled into the back of the automobile, except for Cecil, who was thrown into the trunk. Three of the men started searching through our automobile while we were driven off by the other two men.

Wonderful. Here comes torture!

I won’t bore you any more with the details of the drive. We were going out into the middle of nowhere. Nora was quite talkative, though. She discovered that the driver’s name was Kelly, he was married, and he had two kids. He lived up in the mountains in a small town and missed his kids. The other one in the passenger’s seat was Kim, was single, and didn’t really have a home anywhere. He just traveled around on different assignments–for a while, he had been an assassin, and a pretty good one at that. Nora asked him about his mother, at which point he started crying a bit and said that he hadn’t seen his mother in ten years, and that she had run off with another man. It was the most boring drive ever.

“Well,” Kelly finally said, “Here we are.”

“We’re heading to that killer drop off ahead?” I asked.

“Yes.”

“You’re not going to drive the automobile off the cliff and jump out of it right before hand, leaving us to fall to eternal doom?”

He was quiet.

That was a bad sign. I looked to see if I could escape, but there weren’t any back doors, just the two front ones. I was surrounded by metal and glass. I supposed that I could try to break through the glass to get out, but I that would probably just cause serious injury.

I sighed, knowing that if Kim and Kelly wanted me dead, I was going to die a quick and/or slow death, depending on their mood, and there wasn’t much I could do about.

We got nearer and nearer to the cliff. We weren’t slowing down. Ten yards away. Five yards away. One yard away. Why weren’t Kelly and Kim getting out?

The front tires raced to the edge of the cliff. I closed my eyes. We started to fall . . .

76 – The Torture Almost Begins

And a second later, there was a thump as we hit the ground again. I slowly opened my eyes, wondering if we were dead.

We weren’t dead. In fact, there was a large building in front of us, and Kelly was parking the automobile in front of it. Where did the large building come from?

I looked out the back window. We had gone over a cliff. It was just a very small one.

“We have to hide this building from the main road,” Kelly said. “It’s quite invisible, as the top of the building is covered with leaves and bushes so it just looks like ground. You have to know just where to drive your car off the road.”

I saw one other automobiles drop down off the cliff. It landed with a bump, but kept going. Then I saw our automobile come over it. It fell off the cliff and promptly two windows shattered and a tire fell off.

“Get out,” Kim said. So we crawled out of the car. I found it was usually safer to do what people said when the people were larger than you and had weapons. They let Cecil out of the trunk–he had regained consciousness, which was a shame.

“Hello, dim-witted slug,” I said to him.

Cecil glared at me. “At least I can fight.”

“That just got you knocked out. You are pretty much useless slime.”

He stuttered out something, but I didn’t pay attention. Kelly and Kim were quietly conferring with the other three men who had just arrived.

“We have not found the treasure,” Kelly finally said. “And unless you procure it immediately, we will have to carry out your punishment.”

Porter eyed me suspiciously. I shrugged and turned out my pockets.

They led us inside the building. It was dark inside, and when my eyes finally adjusted, all I would see was a small hallway with hard gray walls. I was expecting to hear screams from dark corners, but didn’t hear anything.

We walked through the hallway until we came to a small, black door.

“Once we open the door,” Kelly said,  ”you walk in quickly, without fighting. If you struggle, we’ll shoot you.”

He opened the door.

77 – The Torture Begins

I saw Cecil flexing and unflexing his fist, like he thought he could take on all the men at once, singlehandedly, with no weapons. I guess he could try it, though I wouldn’t step in to help him.

But then we were all pushed through the door and it was quickly shut behind us.

It was very light, and my eyes took a second to adjust. Cecil was banging on the door, yelling, “Come on and fight me.” Nora was calmly telling him that it wasn’t going to do any good. Porter was looking at me with raised eyebrows.

“It isn’t my fault,” I said.

“Right.”

We were in a big arena, surrounded by high cement walls. There were trees and grass growing around us. I looked up and couldn’t tell if we were outside or if the ceiling was just rather high and bright.

I started to anticipate all the horrible things that could be done to us in a large arena. Maybe they would leave us to starve. Maybe they would send wild beasts on us. Maybe the walls would start moving together. Maybe the trees would suddenly attack us.

I glanced over at Cecil. He was looked more afraid than I was, which was comforting. In fact, he looked near to tears.

“Cecil, you not supposed to cry until after the torture is started. You are a wuss.”

Cecil rubbed his eyes vigorously. “It’s not the torture. It’s just that . . . it’s . . .”

“What? Cat got your tongue?”

“Onions.”

I sniffed, and I could smell it too.

And then I saw a rustle in the grass. Whatever was moving towards us was too short to see properly. Then the grass moved again and again. There was a lot of whatever was out there.

Then something leaped. It was too fast for me to see what it was–all I got was a flash of white. Then pain. Lots of pain. I heard a sound, and it was an awful horrible sound that I only had heard once before in my life.

78 – Killer Cats

So when I was young, we had a house that sat in front of a big open field. One night, I had stormed outside in frustration. It had to do with Cecil taking my bubbles. While outside, I heard this somewhat high-pitched growl. It happened again. Then it happened from another direction. Then the growl grew into a yowl, and the yowl grew into a screech, and suddenly, I saw two cats trying to bite each other’s heads off in front of me.

This was the same, except they were trying to bite my head off. Two cats latched on to my face and started to try to scratch my eyeballs out. Blood started to flow down my face.

Another two cats came from nowhere and landed on my shoulders. And another one dug into my leg and began climbing up it.

I managed to stay standing, though I had no idea how. One of the cats was yowling loudly right into my ear, making it difficult to hear what Porter was yelling.

“What did you say?” I yelled back, only to find a paw go into my mouth and give my tongue a good scrape.

“Go to the tree,” I managed to hear Porter yell back at me.

Since there were lots of trees, and since I knew cats could climb trees, it made absolutely no sense to me. So I stayed where I was at. I curled myself up in a ball. The cats kept scratching me, over and over again.

This was the cruelest thing that had ever happened to me.

“Man-In-Sky,” I said, “Please let me escape these evil cats. Please let the cats hurt someone more deserving.”

Then I realized I was pretty deserving myself, so I stopped praying.

79 – Escape

One of the cats who was chewing on my ear fell backwards. I looked at it.

A knife was sticking out of its eye.

“Cecil, I’m going to kill you!” I yelled, or tried to yell, but it didn’t come out so well, since there were paws in my mouth. And fur pressing in my nose. I couldn’t breathe. And then, I did the only sensible thing possible: I passed out.

 

I blinked. Someone was asking if I was okay. I blinked again. Things swirled around into focus.

It was Nora. She was smiling at me. She seemed completely and utterly unscathed, and in fact, was holding a cat in her arms. Stroking it. The cat seemed quite content, though when it caught sight of me, it gave a small hiss.

“I’m okay,” I said. Except for I wasn’t. I hurt all over. I tried to assess the damage. Scratches all over. My clothes were in tatters. I was covered in blood.

Nora smiled broader. “I’m so glad that you’re not dead,” she said. “We were afraid you were.”

I tried to sit up. It actually worked. The cat Nora was holding meowed at me. I shuddered.

“What happened?” I asked.

“Well,” Nora said. “The cats came, but they only seemed interested in attacking you. Cecil fought them off. I adopted this one. His name is Claws.”

“They didn’t attack anyone else?”

“Afraid not. We tried to get you to move, since you were standing on a big X marked on the ground and we thought that might have something to do with it.”

I sat up. I was in the backseat of an automobile. “Where are we?” I asked.

“In Arg.”

 

80 – Travels in Arg

Usually in great adventures, there are great obstacles to where you are trying to go that cause great delays. For us, however, we traveled through Arg ahead of schedule.

Arg = bad roads; lots of rock; the occasional tree and/or bush; the even more occasional house and/or shack. The even more occasional person. The first five people I saw wore rags that had no particular style except for the fact that they looked like they hadn’t been in style for at least twenty years. They all smelled. Three out of the five people I couldn’t tell if they were men or women. Four out of five people had swords and/or guns.

One man ran out of his shack as we drove past, threw himself on the hood of the automobile,  pointed a sword at us and yelled, “Get ye hence, for ye smell of rotten tomatoes.”

Welcome to Arg.

81 – The Assassins Are Still Following Us

We put up a tent for the night and I had just fallen asleep when I heard a movement.

I woke up to find a knife on my throat and Larry standing over me.

“I don’t really want to die today,” I informed him.

Horace was standing over Cecil with a knife, but Cecil, Porter, and Nora were still sleeping.

“Boy?” Larry whispered.

“I’m actually prince of Batewood now, quite unfortunately.”

“You’re prince of Batewood?” Horace asked.

“Yep. Went and saw King Charles the other day and he made me prince. We’re on a mission now, you know. To stop the powder-skin disease and all that.”

“Are you a compulsive liar?” Larry asked.

“No,” I said. “Are you?”

“Maybe. Maybe I’m not. We came to finish the job–we need to get paid. And I don’t like you. I may kill you just for fun.”

He raised the knife.

Cecil snored very loudly, which caused Nora to jump. She looked around. She saw Larry and Horace.

She sat up and smiled. “You’re the assassins,” she asked brightly.

“Yes,” Horace said.

“Can I talk to you for a moment? Then feel free to continue on.”

Horace looked at Larry. Larry shrugged.

“Sure,” Larry said.

Nora asked them about their family and their lives in Batewood and a whole bunch of stuff I really didn’t care about. I feel asleep.

I woke up when Larry yelled, “Great golly, you’re right.” I looked over at him in the dim light. He seemed to be emulating–all light and happy.  The permanent frown between his eyebrows had disappeared.

“Hello boy!” Larry said. “Nora here has been instructing us about the errors of our ways. And we’re not going to be assassins anymore.”

“We’re going to go find us a place in the world making shoes,” Horace said.

Shoes? All right. Maybe this was a dream. A very strange dream.

I tried to wake myself up. Nothing happened. I pinched myself. Nothing happened.

“This dear woman,” Larry said, gesturing to Nora, “has changed my mind and heart. I think I’m going to settle down now. Find a family. Maybe get in contact with my mother, if she isn’t dead.”

“You are the worst assassins ever,” I said to them.

“Not assassins anymore,” Larry said. He shook Nora’s hand, and disappeared with Horace into the night.

“Did you have to talk them out of it?” I asked Nora.

“It was easy,” Nora said brightly.

“How’d you do it?”

“Oh, you know. I talked about daffodils and pickles.”

And daffodils and pickles work every time, I guess.

82 – Attack!

It was at this precise moment that a strange man cut a hole into our tent and ran inside screaming, “Attack!”

Porter bolted upright and hit the intruder in the face.

The man landed next to me. I couldn’t see him very well, but I could tell that he had a very bushy beard. And he was wearing clothes, luckily.

“You assassin scum,” he yelled. “I’ll show you.” He scrambled upright.

“I’m not an assassin,” Porter said, yawning. “Please put your sword away. I’m going back to sleep.”

“What? Where are they? I tracked them here and I am here to save your lives.”

“You’re too late,” Nora said pleasantly. “They’ve already left. They are going to make shoes now.”

“Shoes?”

“I think it’s called cobbling. How are you doing, Rodolfo? Here to make your grand entrance?”

“Yeah. Well, since it looks like the situation is neutral, I’ll try again later.”

“All right. Have a nice night.”

And Rodolfo left the tent.

83 – Entrance, Try Two

An hour or so later, someone grabbed my elbow and dragged me out of the tent.

I don’t like being kidnapped in the middle of the night when there is not much I can do about. Usually, I would think I could get myself out of such situations, but Rodolfo was brutal. He simply didn’t listen to anything I said. Usually people listened. Usually I could rile people up. And usually stamping repeatedly on someone’s toe or grabbing and holding onto trees would at least made them flinch.

But Rodolfo did nothing except drag me onward with a freaky-calm face. He was quiet.

I was not. I screamed a lot, nut no one came to help me.

It was too dark to see much, but was I taken through some trees and then thrown in a space that was wet and echoed a lot. Since there was a sharp rock pointing into my back, I assumed that I had been thrown into a cave.

He lit a match.

It was a cave. But it was a house too. I could see the shadows of clothing and furniture.

The match burnt out.

“Your name,” he said. Calm.

“I don’t have one,” I said.

“Your name,” he said.

“Wacky Doodle.”

“Your name.”

“Cecil.”

“Your name.”

“Princess Delilah.”

And so on. No matter what I said, there wasn’t a quiver in his voice. There wasn’t a raised tone of outrage.

“Your name.”

I rattled off insults at him.

Still, no change.

I was starting to sweat. A cold sweat. A sweat that meant I wasn’t sure how I was going to get out of this. It had become a stubborn contest–him asking for my name, me not giving it. I was silent. I gave fake names. I talked about the weather. I tried to run away.

He caught me. He held me. He kept asking.

I folded.

“Jake.”

84 – Interrogated

And even though I had given him enough fake names to last a lifetime, this time he believed me.

“What is your purpose, Jake?”

“I don’t have one.”

“Why are you travelling with Cecil?”

“King Bidford forced me to.”

“What are your skills? Special talents?”

“Nothing.”

“Can you use a sword?”

“I hate weapons.”

“For being Cecil’s brother, you are nothing like him,” Rodolfo said.

“Thank you for the compliment.”

“You are prince of Niff and Batewood, are you not?” he said.

I remained silent.

“You probably saved Cecil’s life on numerous occasions, I think.”

I remained silent.

“You’re the true hero,” Rodolfo said. “Not Cecil. That’s for certain.”

It took all my willpower to not yell at him. My hands were shaking.

“Oh, Jake. So unwilling. Those are the best sorts of heroes, you know. Cecil might be good at combat, but he was always to ready, to willing to have fame and honor poured upon him. That will be his downfall. You, on the other hand, are unbeatable.”

“You don’t know anything,” I said.

“Oh, I know enough.”

Rodolfo lit another match. I could see him smiling. “I’m on your side, Jake,” he said. “Don’t worry. You do what you need to do. And I’ll be waiting for you at the end.”

I shivered, a long hard shiver that went through my spine.

And then I ran. I ran so fast that he couldn’t catch me. I ran out from the darkness of the cave into the slightly lighter dark night. I ran even though I didn’t know where I was going. I ran until someone caught my hand, and then drew me in and held his hand to my mouth so that when I screamed, no one could hear me.

85 – A Talk with Dad

I think I fainted. Either that or I fell asleep. Or I got knocked on the head. Any one of the three could happened. Take your pick. I don’t remember.

But I was unconscious for quite some time. When I came to, I tried not to open my eyes. I tried not to let Rodolfo know that I was awake.

“Jake, it’s all right,” a voice said. It wasn’t Rodolfo. I opened my eyes. There, standing in front of me, was Porter.

“Hi,” he said. He seemed concerned, which was strange. He was rarely concerned.

I sat up. “Hi.”

“Would you like to tell me why you were blindly running through the forest as if something horrible had happened to you?” Dad asked.

“Not really,” I said.

He raised an eyebrow.

“Rodolfo kidnapped me. And then he took me to his lair and threatened to spill out my guts with a knife.”

He raised his eyebrow again.

“Okay, he called me a hero. He’s very, very evil.”

“Come on. Rodolfo is eccentric, not evil.”

“Have you ever been alone in a dark cave with him?”

“No.”

“Then I win. He’s evil.”

Dad sighed and sat down. “I thought you didn’t believe in evil villains,” he said.

“I never said that. I just don’t believe in heroes. How about we go home?” I said.

Dad shrugged. “As long as Cecil still wants to go on his mission, you’re going with him.”

“Can I ever go back to Niff?”

Dad shrugged again.

And we won’t talk about the next little bit at all, because it may have consisted of some rather strong emotions that came out in the form of crying. It may have. It may not have as well. You’ll never know.

“I hate adventures,” I finally said.

“I think everyone is aware of that,” Dad told me.

I got up. I was quite ashamed at this point.

“You’re not going to help me, then?” I asked.

He shrugged. “I think you do pretty well on your own, Jake.”

“I think you just don’t care very much. No one does. Am I sounding pathetic enough?”

“Not even close.”

I sighed. I seemed to be doing that a lot lately. But what could I do? Very little, it seemed. Life was just horrible.

86 – Apocalypse Appears

Meanwhile. . . .

Rodolfo sat in his cave muttering to himself. He didn’t notice the black figure that glided into the cave until the candle went out and the figure grabbed him by the throat.

“Who are you?” Rodolfo breathed out. “What is your business?”

“Rodolfo. I am Apocalypse.”

“The end of the world?”

“Just the end of yours.”

“You are here to kill me?”

“No. That would be too simple. I prefer to draw it out. Long and slow like. Beware me.”

Rodolfo went to grab his sword, but Apocalypse had already disappeared.

87 – Rodolfo in Daylight

It soon turned into daylight, and Porter dragged me (kicking and screaming) back to Porter’s cave, telling me that Nora and Cecil would be there soon so we might as well wait for them there.

I was surprised to see a well-groomed flower bed and white picket fence in front of Rodolfo’s cave. He was leaning on the fence, picking his teeth. Now when I say “picking his teeth,” I don’t mean with a toothpick. I mean with a knife. The end of a knife. I was hoping he was going to cut his tongue off, but he didn’t. He just nodded to us and continued.

I wanted to run away screaming, but Porter held me down on the ground and told me to wait.

I had to sit and watch Rodolfo. He was dressed in the most ridiculous outfit which reminded me of something that the royal dresser of Niff would be proud of: lots of fabric, lace, and layers. Except for it was all shabby, torn, and dirty, with food stains and dirt stains and maybe even blood stains, though I hoped not. His beard didn’t look like it had been combed in centuries, and there were twigs and other rubbish poking out of it.

And Rodolfo kept shifting. After picking his teeth, he dug around in the dirt some. Went inside and came back in another set of clothes, but this one equally ridiculous. He practiced shooting his pistol. He put on a wig. He took off the wig. He changed his clothes again. He eyed us for a while, just staring, but didn’t say a word. He produced a cat (I shivered), proceeded to pet it, and then tied a burning stick on its tail and sent down the street. He built a fire, baked something that looked gray and inedible, ate a few bites, and then sprinkled the rest over a patch of petunias. And then he cut the heads of the petunias off and proceeded to tear them apart.

Exactly 117 minutes later, which seemed an eternity, Cecil and Nora pulled up. They had a flat tire and were followed by a man with a very hairy chest and he was followed by a mob of people throwing tomatoes at him.

It was the strangest 117 minutes of my life.

88 – Disapproval

As soon as the automobile had stopped, Cecil leaped from his seat and stood to face Rodolfo. Each of them drew their swords.

“Why are you here?” Rodolfo said.

“I . . .” Cecil gulped. “What did you do with Jake?” He hadn’t noticed me.

“Why does it matter?”

“He’s my brother.”

“Is that where your loyalty lies?” Rodolfo was acting strange, looking all around and not meeting Cecil’s eyes. He was acting as if someone was going to jump Cecil and Nora and steal all their possessions. But then again, maybe Rodolfo was the one who was going to jump Cecil and Nora and steal all their possessions.

“No, I just, I just . . . “

“You shouldn’t be here. You had a job to do. And you failed, didn’t you?” He raised his voice, and it resembled screaming now. “You’re no hero. You’re useless.”

Cecil didn’t say anything.

“We fight,” Rodolfo said. “You win, and you get my help.”

“We fight,” he said.

Cecil’s face lost all expression. They raised their swords.

It was over in about three seconds. Slash, slash, bang, slash, bang, and Rodolfo’s sword went flying.

Rodolfo smiled.  “Shall we have some drinks? I have some goat milk that only went sour a few days ago. Let’s all go inside.”

And we did.

89 – Annoyed

(someone got a scanner for Christmas! finally!)

So we went inside Rodolfo’s cave/house. Cecil was slightly annoyed to see me, seemingly alive and well. I was equally annoyed of his existence.

It was just one-room and large, with a high ceiling. There were rocks all over, some jagged, and the eerie sound of dripping water.

Rodolfo ignored us. He moved all around, muttering to himself. There were piles of clothes that he sorted through, jars on uneven shelves, and random piles of stuff here and there. It looked mostly like a dump, except for there was a vase of wilted flowers on a clean table and a bed in a corner with a smooth bedspread.

He changed his clothes, put a few additional layers on, stripped to his underwear, started over, and finally ended up in a pink nightgown covered with a blue military jacket and tan breeches underneath. It was not a pleasant combination.

“You lived here?” I asked Nora.

She laughed. “Of course not, dear. We lived in an adjacent cave. We passed it on the way here. It’s a pile of rocks now.”

“What happened?”

“Cecil and Rodolfo were testing explosive devices.”

“Oh.”

Once Rodolfo got into the proper clothes, he suddenly remembered our existence.

“Why aren’t you sitting down?” he asked.

“There are no chairs,” I said.

“Oh, draw up a pile of something, then.” Rodolfo said back. “Anything will do.”

So Cecil sat on a large, upside-down vase. Porter and Nora shared a pile of clothes. I stayed standing.

Rodolfo produced glasses out of half of a cabinet I didn’t know where the other half was) and a jar of milk from a bathtub that sat in the corner. He poured the milk, and then chugged his glass before pouring more milk in that glass and giving it to me.

I used it to water a plant, though I was pretty sure it would kill the plant, which was particularly impressive, since it was made out of silk.

I look around. The cave was lit with to oil-burning lamps, and an opening in the ceiling let in some sunlight. I could probably climb the walls easily. And with all this junk here. . .

I started rummaging as the rest of them talked about the idiotic quest for the Silver Feather.

90 – Island of the Waves

I found a bucket, a string, a pulley, a rope, and then Rodolfo cleared his throat and gave me such an evil glare that I stopped rummaging.

“You’ll stay here the night, and tomorrow, you will start you journey to the Tiny Island of the Waves,” Rodolfo said, loudly, when he had everyone’s attention. “That is where you will find the Silver Feather.”

“Wait,” I said. “How do you know where we are supposed to go? Do you have the clue? And what is this Island?”

Rodolfo switched clothes again, this time changing into a turquoise robe. “No,” he said, while pulling it over his head. “But I know.”

“But how?” I asked. It seemed weird that he was so sure about it.

“Cecil knows to trust me,” Rodolfo said. “You should too, Jake.”

“Yes,” Cecil said. “Rodolfo is the expert on the Silver Feather–we’ve gotten this far because of everything he’s taught me. He’ll lead us right.”

“Or he’ll lead us straight to the Place-Below-Ground,” I said.

“Jake,” Porter said, “This is Cecil’s journey, and the King commanded–”

“We’ve been dragged all over the world and you still care what King Biddie-Boy said?” I asked. “You know this is idiotic, Dad. You know it. And there’s something fishy going on, anyway, and you just turn a blind eye?”

“Jake,” Porter said. He raised an eyebrow at me.

“Why aren’t you on my side?” I asked.

“I don’t have to explain myself.”

“What? You think I’m going to start enjoying this ? You think we’re all going to become a happy family? You think we’re actually going to find a Silver Feather that doesn’t exist?” I stopped talking. I breathed. It was no use.

I was the only sane person on this stupid expedition, but I was suddenly worried that if we kept going, endlessly, I would end up as crazy as the rest of them.

91 – In the Night

We went to sleep. Well, everyone except for I did, because there was no way I could sleep soundly in that ridiculous cave.

I went outside, and immediately took a deep breath. Free. For a moment, at least. The air was cool. I heard singing.

Tipsy? Again?

And there she was, her eyes and hair sparkling. She wore a white dress.

“Round and round we go again

Without a beginning, without an end

Looking for our destination far

We’ll only reach the beginning star.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” I asked.

She danced up towards me.

“Not much.” She giggled.

“You are beginning to be rather creepy,” I said.

She giggled again, and maybe blushed.

“Are you real?”

“Of course not. But answers are closer than you think. You are going towards a beginning, not the end.”

“Where is the end?”

But she danced away with a laugh.

92 – Goodbye Rodolfo

When everyone woke up, they had no idea where I was. No one bothered to look up, so I sat unnoticed high up on the cave’s wall.

Rodolfo skipped around and started burning eggs on the fire. He looked up at me and winked, but said nothing. I wanted something sharp and I wanted to throw it at him. Instead, I waited.

Nora and Porter left the cave first, while Rodolfo and Cecil had a few words together in the entrance.

I pulled a rope.

Four buckets, filled with rancid, muddy water, fell down on Rodolfo and Cecil. Then two more buckets, filled with rotting dead leaves, fell immediately after that.

“Jake!” Cecil yelled.

I climbed down and simply smiled at both of them.

Cecil stuttered.

Rodolfo smiled back. ”Jake,” he said, and leaned over to whisper in my ear. “You’ll do great things in life. I guarantee it. You’ll be the hero. Mark my words.” He didn’t seem at all bothered by all the filth.

Creepy. I was getting away from him. Far away from him. I ran. I ran into the back seat of the automobile and hunkered down and shivered. At least we were leaving and I never had to see that man again.

93 – Enemies

That night, Rodolfo looked up to see Apocalypse standing in the entrance of his cave.

“How about,” Apocalypse said, “you tell me everything.”

“What ever do you mean?”

“I mean you explain all you know about the Silver Feather.”

Rodolfo smiled. “You don’t scare me, Apocalypse. You’re spineless.”

Apocalypse laughed. “I’m not just empty threats, Rodolfo..”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean every drunk Argian is coming after you. And a few that aren’t drunk too, just to mix things up. I may have told them some lies.”

“So what?”

“So, if you tell me, then I make them go away.”

Rodolfo considered for a moment while he changed his clothes from a white nightshirt to red underwear with a lacy collar.

“Don’t tell me, then,” Apocalypse said. “But I know you’re the one who told Cecil about the Silver Feather. You’re the one who gave him the first clue, aren’t you? And you knew where he should go next.”

“Then why do you need any information from me?”

2″I guess I don’t. Have fun with the angry mob.”

94 – In Which We Travel Through Arg

The further away we drove from Rodolfo, the happier I became. I still had to figure out how to avoid going out to sea where we would capsize in a terrible storm and die. But at least I wasn’t near Rodolfo.

It took us three days to get to the docks of Arg. In those three days, we were thrown out of three inns, attacked by angry men and women, Cecil fought off a gigantic troll (or just a gigantic man, but he was so disfigured I’m not sure), we ran out of food, and crashed our automobile into a river, thus necessitating us walking for the last day.

I warned Cecil about the terrible things that could happen, and spouted off every possible ship wreck scenario I could think of. I even whispered discouraging thoughts to him while he was asleep.

“We go to the Island,” Cecil said. “That’s where the Silver Feather is.”

“How do you know ?” I asked.

“Rodolfo told me.”

“Why doesn’t he go get it then?”

“I’m sure he has more important things.”

“What if the reason he isn’t coming is because he’s sending you on a wild goose chase?”

“What if the reason he isn’t coming is because he trusts me?”

Cecil walked away looking quite triumphant. That is, until a great glob of mud lodged itself into his blonde hair.

“If you were really a hero, you wouldn’t have to go crawling to him for help,” I said.

“It’s not bad to ask for help.”

“Maybe not, but you’ve needed so much help I’ve been forced to save your life a few times.”

“Maybe I never wanted your help.”

“Maybe I never wanted to give it because you a pompous, arrogant, delusional fool.”

At which point our conversation ended. That was my trouble. I would start trying to convince Cecil not to go to the Island of Waves and end with insulting him. So I tried to talk Nora and Porter out of it. But they just said they were supporting Cecil and would do whatever Cecil wanted.

So we ended up at the docks of Arg, and everyone was set on finding a ship that would take us to the mysterious Island of Waves. Ugh.

95 – Advice

I got myself lost from the group when we arrived at the docks, trying to blend in with some men who were passed out (or knocked out) in an alley.

“Care for some advice?” Porter asked, sitting right next to me.

“No,” I said.

Porter took a bite from an apple. “You really shouldn’t insult Cecil so much. It doesn’t help you get your way.”

“Then how about you help me.”

“Help you what?”

“Convince them not to go out to sea to certain death.”

“Why don’t you want to go?”

“You can’t get lost on a boat. Or slip away, quietly.”

“And?”

“And I hate being in tight quarters.”

“And?”

“I want to go home.”

“And that right there has been your problem the whole time, Jake. Isn’t home where your family is?”
“That makes no sense.”"Home is where I can get away from my family.”

“I don’t care.”

It was then that Cecil and Porter came into the alley, followed by a rather burly man with a nose ring.

“Who’s this?” Porter asked.

“Captain Jack,” Cecil said proudly.

“He’s going to take us to the Island of the Waves,” Nora said.

Part V

Jake: Why is there another random recap?

Me: I feel like one.

Jake: But we’re finally getting to the part of the story I can stand.

Me: Exactly. And I’ve probably chased all my readers away from my sporadic holiday posting, so I figure I might as well.

Jake: Then why didn’t you do this posts ago?

Me: We were in the middle of something. Now we’re not. Hush.

Our story so far: Jake goes (unwillingly) on an adventure with his family (brother Cecil, dad Porter, mom Nora) to find a magical Silver Feather. Apocalypse, a mysterious villain who has yet to monologue about his life and purpose, is thwarting Cecil at every step. Cecil goes to his former teacher, Rodolfo (who sent him on the quest in the first place), for advice, and Rodolfo send him to the Island of the Waves. And that’s where they are heading . . . tune in next time (or the time after that or somewhere in the near future) to see if they get there or not.

96 – Setting Sail

Great. Of course they would get the most troll-like man in Arg to be our captain. And he probably owned the most old-fashioned boat in the dock.

Captain Jack grunted and thrust out a hand that was missing fingers for me to shake it. I dodged it. Porter shook it instead.

“Two minutes. We leave,” he said. He spat and walked off.

“You ready?” Nora said brightly.

“Never,” I said back to her, and then gave a very evil look to Cecil, so evil that he took a step back. “You dull-witted porcupine,” I said to him. “You will feel my wrath.”

“Now, now,” Nora said. “Let’s all get along.”

They turned. I watched as they went to, of course, the worst-looking boat there was–it looked like it was going to fall apart as soon as it launched.

Porter looked at me. “Do I have to force you on?” he called out to me.

“Of course.”

And so I was pulled, kicking and screaming, onto the Boat of Death.

97 – Sea Sickness

I jumped off the boat before it set sail. It was the only rational thing to do. Except for I didn’t know how to swim, but I learned very quickly, and spent the rest of the day swimming around and avoiding capture.

Until a great big oar hit me in the head. I was so dazed that they finally managed to pull me onto the boat and tie me up.

When I finally came to my senses, I saw Nora standing over me, smiling sweetly.

“Cecil hit me, didn’t he?” I asked.

“Of course,” Nora said in a sweet voice. “You did need to get on the ship, after all.”

The boat lurched. My stomach lurched the other direction.

No. There was no way that I was going to get sick and sit there, green, on a bunk the whole time. Absolutely no way.

I sat up. I was tied to my bunk. It was pretty dark in the cabin, with only a thin circle of light from a small round window, but I could see that we were moving.

My stomach lurched again. I wiggled out of the ropes (Nora actually helped me out) and manged to make it to the deck, where I proceed to vomit the few contents of my stomach onto Cecil’s dainty shoes. It was one of my better moments.

“Sick?” Captain Jack said.

“No,” I answered. “But could you lash me to the helm of the boat please?”

“You’re supposed to be tied up,” Cecil said.

“Then tie me to the rigging,” I said back to him. “Up there.”

Cecil looked surprised, but quite eagerly went about the task.

I bobbed around with the waves and swayed with the wind, and when my stomach was quite used to the movement, I slipped out of the ropes and climbed down.

Sea-sickness: cured.

Let the fun begin.

98 – In Which I Become a Kitchen Boy

We were going pretty fast with all the sails out. The sailors (or pirates, depending on your perspective) managed to walk as if the boat was not lurching about beneath them. The rest of lurched about quite a bit. I climbed up to the crow’s nest with a large bucket of water and spent the first of the day making people wonder if it was going to rain.

Cecil got the remaining water dumped on his head before Porter found me and made me come down.

Captain Jack was waiting for me. He had a new ring in one of his ears, but it bleeding a bit. “No free rides,” he said.

He went to Nora first. “You sew. Repair flag.”

Nora smiled.

Jack went to Porter next. “You clean.”

“I’ll be an officer. Lieutenant, at least.”

“No officers here.”

“You’re a captain, aren’t you?”

“Fine.”

He went to Cecil next. “You swab deck.”

Last was me. I was last mostly because I had been climbing up the rigging again and Captain Jack had to grab my ankle to stop me.

“Kitchen boy,” he said.

And he dragged me to the kitchens.

99 – Fight

I spent the rest of the day pretending to work in the kitchens. After dinner, I went on deck.

“Hello Jake,” Porter said. He was steering the boat. “Have you been working hard?”

“Do I ever? Have you?”

“Oh, of course.”

Cecil was nearby swabbing the deck. He was actually smiling, which was strange.

“Enjoying yourself, seaweed brain?” I asked him.

Cecil glared up at me. “Yes,” he said. And he started swabbing again.

I shrugged, then proceeded to spill out the contents of the bucket Cecil was using onto his head.

Cecil stood up and brandished his swab as if he was going to whack me with it in the head. Then he took a deep breath and continued working.

Cecil glared at me. “I think it’s time you grow up a bit,” he said.

“I think it’s time you grew a brain,” I said.

“You can throw your childish insults at me. I’m not going to listen anymore.” Cecil drew out his chest proudly, as if he had done something important.

“You’re the one who got me on this journey,” I told Cecil. “And you’re the one who got me on this ship. And you’re the one who ruined my life. Ever thought of that? This is even about me, anyway. You’re trying to be a hero, but you’ll never be one. What makes you think you’re going to find a Silver Feather? What makes you think its even out there?”

Cecil just shrugged.

Which made me angrier. Which made me push Cecil off of the boat.

And while everyone focused on making sure he didn’t drown, I went down to my bunk to sulk.

That was when I saw a large black cloak.

100 – In Which Jake Disappears and/or Dies

Hi. It’s the author here. I know Jake has been doing a really great job at telling his own story, but he’s ran into some big trouble and won’t be able to narrate anymore.

I’ll take over from here. 

***

No one saw Jake that night. No one saw him in the morning. No one worried about it that much because they supposed that Jake was pulling one of his pranks, or sulking somewhere, or trying to ruin their lives in some other way.

And silently, a figure in a black cloak quietly talked to the crew, showing them gold coins and whispering promises to them. And the crew responded eagerly–they were quickly running out of ale and wanted to turn around anyway.

Under the cloak, Apocalypse smiled.

101 – Mutiny

It happened quickly. The mutiny, that is.

Apocalypse walked onto the deck in the morning and everyone stopped working. Apocalypse stood in front of Captain Jack.

“The ship is mine now,” Apocalypse said in his deep voice. “You will do what I say.”

Captain Jack looked at the crew members and he slowly nodded.

Cecil, however, was not going to resist so easily. “N0,” he yelled. He hurriedly drew his sword and went to face Apocalypse. “Show your face, Apocalypse,” Cecil said. “And how in the world did you get on this ship?”

“Hidden as a crew member, of course,” Apocalypse said. “I suppose you want to fight me.”

“Yes,” Cecil said.

“And you would probably ram that sword into my throat or my stomach and I would bleed to death or maybe die from infection a few weeks later.”

Cecil just held his sword steadily.

“I have no weapon,” Apocalypse said. “But they do.” Half the crew members  raised pistols and pointed them at Cecil’s head. “Drop your sword,” Apocalypse added. “And the knives in your boots. And your pistols. And the other various weapons you carry in your person, including the razor blades in that hidden pocket and your shoelaces.”

“How do you know about the–”

“I know everything. Quickly know.”

Cecil dropped his sword. ”This isn’t how it’s supposed to be.”

But Apocalypse didn’t say another word to him. “Tie him up,” he said to the crew. “And, for good measure, Porter and Nora too.”

“Where’s Jake?” Nora said, looking around. Everyone was on the deck now, but Jake was nowhere to be found.

“I killed him,” Apocalypse said.

Nora started crying. Cecil looked up in shock. Porter’s face, however, remained the same: unreadable.

All three of them were bound to the mast and Apocalypse gave directions.

102 – Back to Arg

Nora looked mournful. Porter looked glum. And Cecil looked devastated.

He was frantically trying to figure out to defeat this Apocalypse, this evil man who had ruined his adventure. There were heading back to Arg now, and the Island of the Waves was getting farther and farther away. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be.

And Jake wasn’t supposed to die.

Cecil’s thoughts kept going back to that again and again. No one was ever supposed to die on this trip. Cecil had failed. The Silver Feather didn’t even seem so important now, for he had failed in something greater.

It was all Apocalypse’s fault.

Cecil was going to kill Apocalypse. Somehow, someway. Cecil had never killed anyone before. But he would have to, wouldn’t he? That was the only way to avenge Jake’s death.

“Hold tight there,” Porter said to Cecil.

Cecil realized that he had been crying. He blinked his eyes, wishing his hands were free to wipe them off his face. He didn’t want to look week.

“Cecil,” Porter said again. “Don’t be stupid.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Cecil asked.

“I mean that there may be more going on here than you think.”

Cecil was confused by what Porter said. It was pretty simple, wasn’t it? Apocalypse was his enemy. Apocalypse needed to die.

103 – Explain Yourself

Apocalypse gave some orders to the crew, and then approached them. He went to Cecil, and Cecil was ashamed that Apocalypse could see the tear stains on his cheeks.

“You are weak,” Apocalypse said. “So very weak, Cecil.”

Cecil started to something, but his voice cracked. He started over. “You . . . you killed my brother.”

“A brother you didn’t even like. He was a nuisance. I thought you would be glad to get rid of him.”

“Never. You don’t know anything. And you will pay for that, you will pay for that with your life.”

Apocalypse stood there beneath his heavy hood. He didn’t talk. He didn’t move.

Cecil spat in the general direction of Apocalypse’s face.

Apocalypse took a few steps back.

“No matter,” Apocalypse said. “You can never win, Cecil. Ever.”

But Cecil just stared with hatred.

“Um, Mr. Apocalypse?” Porter said.

“What?” Apocalypse spat out.

“I think you better explain yourself.”

“Why should I?” Apocalypse said.

Porter cleared his throat. “Well, do you want the Silver Feather for yourself? If so, why are you turning around? Or do you just want to foil us in our journey? And if so, why? That sort of thing.  It would be nice to know your motivations.”

Cecil had no idea how Porter could be so calm–even happy, really. It was weird.

“It doesn’t matter,” Apocalypse said. “What matters is that I’m in control.”

And Porter did the strangest thing: he laughed. He laughed long and hard. “Apocalypse, I know your secret, which means that you will never be in control.”

And Apocalypse turned and walked away, leaving them alone.

“What do you mean a secret?” Cecil asked Porter. “What do you know?”

“You’ll find out,” Porter said, and no matter how much Cecil pestered him, he couldn’t get anything out of him.

Something strange was going on, and when Cecil had the chance to face Apocalypse, he would find out.

104 – Arrival at Arg

Apocalypse seemed on edge the closer they got to Arg. Cecil waited. The right time would come for revenge.

When they pulled back into the docks, Apocalypse was faced with the task of untying his prisoners and taking them somewhere–and he seemed worried about it. He kept putting it off, paying out the crew, making excuses for himself.

Finally, he told a few crew members to untie Porter, Cecil, and Nora from the mast.

And Cecil had a plan. As soon as the crew member broke enough rope for him to move, Cecil immediately attacked, grabbing the knife from the man, pushing him away, and quickly cutting his hands free.

Cecil ran towards Apocalypse, but Apocalypse was quick and scaled the rigging.

“Get down here and fight!” Cecil said.

“How about you let me talk?” Apocalypse said. “And then we’ll see.”

“Talk then.”

“I’ve seen the clues to the Silver Feather. They weren’t old. They weren’t special. They were created by Rodolfo himself and planted for you to find.”

“You lie!”

“Of course you wouldn’t believe me. Ask Porter. He knows what’s really about.”

Cecil looked at Porter.

Porter shrugged. ”He may be right about that. Not anything else.”

“See?” Apocalypse said. “I’m not really your enemy. Rodolfo is.”

“It doesn’t matter. You killed my brother. Prepare to die.”

And Cecil started to climb to Apocalypse, his knife ready.

105 – Revelation

Cecil climbed up the rigging with the knife, and Apocalypse climbed down even more quickly, managing to avoid Cecil’s swinging arm.

But trouble came when Apocalypse tripped over that long, black cloak he wore, causing him to sprawl on the deck of the ship, and before he could get up, Cecil was on top of him, wielding the knife high up in the air.

Cecil hesitated before bringing the knife down, and then his look hardened and he took a deep breath. He could do this.

“Really, Cecil?” Apocalypse said, except it wasn’t quite Apocalypse–his voice wasn’t as deep. “You’re not even going to see my face first?”

Cecil nodded. Underneath the cloak, Apocalypse wore a black mask. Cecil quickly tore it away with his knife.

It was Jake.

106 – Now What?

So Jake, obviously, was not dead. That is, he wasn’t yet, though Cecil still had the knife raised for some reason, staring in shock down at Jake.

“Please don’t kill me, Cecil.” Jake managed to wriggle out of his grasp and sat sulking a few feet away.

Cecil stayed right where he was, frozen.

“How did you figure it out?” Jake asked Porter.

“It was pretty obvious,” Porter said. “And I found the cloak a few weeks ago.”

“I thought I was being so sneaky about it.”

“Oh, you were,” Porter said. “I mean, Cecil and Nora had no idea.”

Jake shrugged. “It was fun while it lasted.” He looked over at Cecil. “Do you think Cecil will thaw out ever?”

“Maybe,” Porter said.

But it was Nora who overcame the shock of the revelation first and descended on Jake with a whole bunch of kisses and tight hugs.

“Ah, come on,” Jake said. “Let me breathe.”

“Sorry,” Nora said, but she still smiled at him and didn’t go very far away.

Cecil still hadn’t moved.

“So . . .” Jake said. “Can we really, really go home now? I’ve been trying to get us to go home for the longest time.”

“What about Rodolfo?” Porter asked.

“What about him? I don’t want to see him again in my life.”

“Isn’t he the villain now?” Porter asked.

Jake sighed. “Your sounding like Cecil. All we need to do is go home. Besides, I left Rodolfo with an angry mob last time I saw him.”

“He probably got away.”

“Probably, but I really don’t care.”

Cecil finally unfroze. The knife dropped to the ground. He started breathing. He looked over at Jake. “You . . . you . . . you . . .” Cecil didn’t know what to think. Relief crossed his face. Followed by anger. Followed by confusion. Followed by anger again. Followed by sadness and then every emotion possible crammed together at once. It wasn’t a pretty sight.

107 – Breakdown

The knife dropped to the ground. Cecil started breathing. He looked over at Jake. “You . . . you . . . you . . .” Cecil didn’t know what to think. Relief crossed his face. Followed by anger. Followed by confusion. Followed by anger again. Followed by sadness and then every emotion possible crammed together at once. It wasn’t a pretty sight.

He finally ended up with his face in his hands, sobbing.

Nora patted his shoulder comfortingly.

“I really thought that I could get it,” Cecil said. “I wanted to prove myself, make something of myself. I don’t know. I was stupid. I believed Rodolfo because I wanted to, and this whole time I just thought I was on some grand adventure, and I was the hero and it turns out that it was all fake. I failed. I failed before I began.” Cecil looked up at Jake. “You were Apocalypse the whole time?”

Jake nodded.

“You hired assassins.”

“Yeah, but it’s not like I told them to kill you. Just scare you.”

“You stole the clue.”

“Yeah. I just wanted to go home.”

“Because the Silver Feather never existed.”

“Are you mad at me?” Jake asked.

Cecil thought for a second and then shrugged. “Maybe. But I’m just sort of glad your alive right now.”

“So we go home now, right? Jake asked.

Cecil shrugged again. “I don’t care anymore.”

“Again, what about Rodolfo?” Porter asked.

Jake and Cecil both shrugged.

And then Rodolfo climbed aboard the ship and said, “What about me?”

108 – Fetch My Sword

“Did you get the Silver Feather?” Rodolfo asked brightly.

There was an awkward moment where Rodolfo looked at them, smiling, and they looked at him, frowning.

“Oh,” Rodolfo finally said, his smile fading. “Did you not find it?”

Cecil’s frown turned into a look of sharp anger and disgust.

“Right,” Rodolfo said. “I guess I should be going.”

Porter (who was quite a bit bigger than Rodolfo) grabbed his arm to keep him on the ship.

“Where is my sword?” Cecil demanded.

“I’ll get it,” Jake said, and he took off.

“Why did you do it?” Cecil said to Rodolfo, as they waited for the sword. “Why did you make up the Silver Feather and send me after it?”

“It was all rather simple,” Rodolfo said. “It would be the crowning achievement to your training. And then, well, you came back with it, we trick King Bidford in believing it’s real, you become prince, I become your adviser, eventually I rule Niff, and then I take over the world.”

“That is so mental,” Jake said, coming back with the sword. “You had zero chance of success.”

Rodolfo shrugged. “I have backup plans. Like stealing your Apocalypse idea, Jake. That was a stroke of genius.”

Cecil had his sword ready. “Now we fight,” he told Rodolfo.

Rodolfo sighed. “Must it come to this?” He drew out his own sword, and the fight began.

109 – Fight

Cecil and Rodolfo had fought before, of course, but this time it wasn’t practice, it was real. Cecil went at Rodolfo with a fury that Jake really didn’t care to see, so he tried to entertain himself by looking at passing seagulls.

“Don’t you want to watch?” Porter asked Jake.

“Of course not. Violence isn’t my thing. Besides, you probably won’t let Cecil lose, right?”

“I’m not so good with sword play,” Porter said.

“What do you mean? You’re a soldier, aren’t you?”

Porter shrugged. “We have weapons more for intimidation purposes. Besides, I think Cecil is holding his own quite well.”

Jake turned and looked, briefly. Cecil was beating Rodolfo back over the gangplank and off the ship.

They followed Cecil and Rodolfo onto the pier. It felt nice to be on solid ground again. Jake made a resolution never to go on a boat again.

Cecil gave a ferocious yell. Jake peeked. Rodolfo was on his knees, without a sword, and Cecil stood above him with his sword raised.

110 – To the Death

Cecil held the sword above Rodolfo’s head. Cecil’s face was red, his eyes wide, his mouth drawn into a tight line.

“It’s time to end this,” Cecil said.

“Really?” Jake asked. “That’s the best line you can come up with? You’re not going to kill him, right?”

Cecil looked up at Jake. “Don’t get involved, Jake. Heroes kill bad guys, don’t they?”

“Heroes exist in fantasy world. We already established that you are not a hero.”

Rodolfo had taken the opportunity to reach out and pull Cecil to the ground. Rodolfo looked around for his sword. It was right next to Jake, and Jake picked it up and somewhat brandished it, though it wasn’t with any conviction.

“Give me my sword,” Rodolfo said.

“You didn’t say please,” Jake said.

Rodolfo lunged at Jake. And since Jake had no idea how to use a weapon, he dropped the sword and ran. Rodolfo picked up the sword and ran after Jake.

Cecil ran after Rodolfo.

“Porter, do something!” Jake yelled as he dodged a thrust from Rodolfo’s sword and zig-zagged back the other way.

“What do you want me to do?” Porter yelled back. “You took all our weapons away earlier.”

“You are a totally irresponsible parent,” Jake yelled again as he dodged a thrust, this time from Cecil, since the three of them were running around all rather confused about what was happening and who was chasing and fighting who.

Jake took off down the street, but Rodolfo and Cecil still followed closely. Jake upset a fruit cart and pushed through a crowd of people coming out of a building, and was soon running out into sandy fields.

Still, Rodolfo followed him and Cecil followed Rodolfo.

“Why are you chasing me?” Jake yelled behind him. “I am not involved in this.”

This actually caused Rodolfo to stop and think. The three of them stood panting, looking at each other and trying to sort things out.

“You know,” Rodolfo finally said. “Cecil might have challenged me to a fight, but Jake, you have always been my arch-nemesis.”

Jake sighed. “I don’t even know how to use a weapon. I guess I’ll run again.”

And he took off.

111 – Up a Tree

Jake found a tree and proceeded to climb it as quickly as he could, hoping that Rodolfo had very few climbing abilities.

Rodolfo stood at the base of the tree as Jake climbed higher and higher. “You can’t hide there forever!”

Cecil caught up with Rodolfo and they resumed their fight, leaving time for Jake to breathe.

“Hello,” a voice said with a giggle.

Jake almost fell out of the tree. There, sitting right next to him, was Tipsy. She was sparkling.

“You’re back?” Jake asked.

Tipsy laughed. “I hadn’t finished with you quite yet.”

And then she sang, one last time:

From the waves I came to you,

Appeared in morning light and dew,

And now I have something to show you–

If you want it, you can have it too.

And she reached up her sleeve and pulled out a shiny gray feather.

“What is that?” Jake asked.

“The Silver Feather, of course.”

“What?”

“I found it on the Island of the Waves. It’s where I came from. I think the man at the bottom of the tree put it there.”

“Weird,” was all Jake could think of to say.

Tipsy laughed. “Silly, I made it magical especially just for you. You write with this and it comes true.”

“You’re a hallucination, aren’t you? Some sort of weird panic attack?”

“Do you want it or not?”

“I don’t know. I guess, yeah, sure.”

Tipsy gave him the Silver Feather.

Jake took it and looked at it. It seemed mostly ordinary, except for it was quite shiny.

He looked up to ask Tipsy a question, but she had disappeared.

112 – Epic Battle

While Jake was up the tree, the battle commenced below. Cecil and Rodolfo kept fighting and fighting until both were quite exhausted. They took a break, both breathing heavily.

Cecil finally sighed and put his sword on the ground. “I wanted an epic battle, but it’s all sort of pointless, isn’t it?”

“What do you mean?” Rodolfo asked. “I trained you to fight, didn’t I?”

“Just because I can doesn’t mean I want to. I’m through with it. This whole adventure has just been a waste of time.”

Cecil turned and walked away.

“You can’t just walk away from me,” Rodolfo said.

“I can, and I will,” Cecil said back.

And with a yell, Rodolfo brandished his sword and raced to at Cecil. Cecil probably would have died too, which would have been a shame, but at that somewhat precise moment, Jake jumped out of the tree.

113 – Stop

“Rodolfo, you worthless piece of slime,” Jake called. Rodolfo turned and looked at Jake.

Cecil took the opportunity to grab his sword and run away.

“It’s just you and me now,” Rodolfo said.

“You’ve got some anger management issues,” Jake said. “But I finally have a weapon.” And Jake held up the Silver Feather.

Rodolfo stared at the Feather. His eyebrows knotted up together and his sword lowered. “How . . . where?”

Jake just smiled. “That’s my little secret, isn’t it?”

“Doesn’t matter. It doesn’t do anything anyway.” Rodolfo raised his sword again and charged at Jake.

Jake hoped with all his might that the Feather actually worked. He wrote a single word in the air with the Silver Feather.

Stop.

Rodolfo stopped.

Drop your sword. (That took a while to spell out.)

Rodolfo dropped his sword.

“How about that,” Jake said. “It works quite simply, doesn’t it? I was worried I would have to write with my own blood–that would have been messy.”

Rodolfo looked quite worried.

“Time for you to leave,” Jake said. “I hope I spell this right.”

Rodolfo is banished to the Island of the Waves.

And Rodolfo disappeared.

114 – Secrets

Jake stood there for a moment, looking at the Silver Feather. He was glad Rodolfo was gone, but not so glad that a magical object had ended up in his hands. Now he had a conundrum.

He could get rid of it, he supposed. that way he wouldn’t have to worry about adventures and magic and weird, horrible things happening to him.

Or he could keep it, and only use it when necessary. And not tell anyone about it. And just pretend nothing had happened.

He put it in his pocket.

Porter jogged into his view. “You’re alive,” Porter said.

“Surprised?” Jake asked.

“Well, Rodolfo could have killed you. Where is Rodolfo?”

“He’s gone.”

Porter raised an eyebrow. Jake shrugged.

“You going to tell me where he went to?” Porter asked.

“The Island of the Waves, actually,” Jake said.

“He just decided to go there?”

“I, uh, convinced him that he needed to go there.”

Porter raised his other eyebrow. “Jake, I can tell when you’re hiding something.”

Jake shrugged. “You’re not getting it out of me. Not this time. And you won’t be able to figure it out either.”

“Tipsy gave you the Silver Feather.”

Jake was speechless. He looked at Porter in shock. “How in the world do you know about that?”

Porter laughed. “I’m better at keeping secrets than you are.”

“Then you’re not going to tell anyone I have it, right?”

Porter just laughed again and walked away.

115 – The End

So there they were on the docks of Arg. They had no automobile or mode of transport. They were mostly out of money.  But Jake was happy. Because they were going home. There was nothing else to do.

“Don’t you want to continue on some adventure?” Nora asked Cecil.

Cecil yawned. “I think all I want to do is go home and sleep for like a week. And then figure out something more productive to do with my life.”

And so they headed home.

Of course, they had to figure out how to go home. They started on foot. And then, miraculously, an automobile appeared with a sign in the window that said “Free.”

Their journey back into Niff went extremely smoothly. And Jake pretend he had nothing to do with it, but Porter knew better.

Cecil and Jake bickered quite a bit, and they had to pull over a few times until the arguments cooled off a bit.

And finally, a few uneventful days later, they arrived home, climbed into beds, and went to sleep.

Jake hid the Silver Feather and vowed never to use it–or at least not use it too much. It was the stuff of adventures, and his adventure was over.

(Of course, Jake was still the prince of Niff and Batewood, but that was an undesirable fact that everyone just ignored.)

THE END