A Nasty Shock
Chilli and Ty could hear the whoops and hollers die down as the Master of Ceremonies continued the introductions. His diatribe mostly praised their king and waffled on about the greatness of the Effluvian Empire. He droned on about the unsurpassed beauty of their country and the unprecedented economic growth.
As the MC came to the end of his Effluvian lovefest, the three friends reached the bottom of the staircase.
Chilli suddenly stopped and sniffed noisily. “That’s weird” she remarked, “I can smell lavender.”
“You’re right” Ty said, “it does smell like lavender.”
“Where it’s coming from?”
“It smells like it’s coming from that airvent” he replied, pointing to a large grate in the wall. “I think it’s being pumped into the stadium.”
“Maybe the king likes the smell of lavender” Chilli reasoned.
“Mm...” Ty answered absentmindedly. He had turned his attention to their immediate problem – how to get into the arena. They followed a bend in the passage that solved the problem for him.
“There’s the entrance!” cried Ty.
He pointed at a grand lobby ahead of them. It was covered in plush red carpeting stained by the filthy mud trail left behind by the Effluvians. Four sets of double doors led off the lobby.
“We better be careful or we’ll have our heads separated from our bodies” said Chilli nervously. “Get ready for what may be behind those doors” she suggested, tapping the empty arrow shaft peeping out of the quiver slung over Ty’s shoulder.
“Good thinking Chills,” whispered Ty. He took the Arrowheart from his pocket and fitted it onto the arrow’s shaft. Its red light immediately started to glow.
“That could be a problem” muttered Ty. He pulled out the black bandana, slipped it over the Arrowheart and secured it with a tight knot.
“I’m going to open to see if we can get inside without being seen. Here, hold the Bow” said Ty, passing it to Chilli.
He grabbed a doorhandle shaped like a cobra’s hooded head and opened the door slightly. He carefully eased his body through the narrow opening, keeping a foot in the door to stop it from slamming shut.
“What’s going on?” whispered Chilli anxiously. She was feeling very vulnerable standing on her own in the foyer.
“There’s a row of empty seats at the back. We can hide behind them. First, you better give me back the Bow” said Ty, holding out his hand.
Chilli did as Ty asked. He slipped the quiver back over his shoulder and they nervously slipped quietly into the arena. Chilli hoped no one would hear her knees knocking.
Crouching low, Chilli and Ty scrambled towards the back row.
“So far, so good,” whispered Ty.
On the stage, the Master of Ceremonies was ending his introduction. “So, unwith furmore adolay” he continued, “I now presentate to you... His Most Supremiest Malajesty, King Maximus Destructium!”
The stadium erupted again. The stamping of thousands of feet and flippers thundered around the auditorium. The noise died down as someone else took over the microphone.
“Good evening, my dear fellow Effluvians...” Ty and Chilli stared at one another. They knew that voice. And it wasn’t the voice of an old friend; it was the voice of an old enemy.
“That sounds like... no, it can’t be!” said Ty.
“It is!” insisted Chilli, “it’s Morbidius.”
“I’m going to check” suggested Ty. He stood up so that he could see over the back row, but the Bow became snagged on a chair. It twisted, almost poking him in the eye.
“Ow!” complained Ty. He shrugged the Bow off his shoulder and placed it under the row of seats.
“You can’t do that!”
“It’s okay,” Ty reassured Chilli. “We’re safe back here.” Chilli wasn’t so sure, but she wasn’t going to argue.
King Maximus Destructium was an imposing six-foot-tall cobra, with his magnficient hood spread out wide. Only the cobra’s head was visible, the rest of his body was covered in a luxurious white ermine pelt that reached the floor. The audience gaped in awed silence at their glorious sovereign.
“Good Evening, my beloved citizens!” the King’s voice boomed. “It is my great and humble honour to address you on this, our most auspicious occasion of the year. As you all know, it is customary at these proceedings for the monarch to make an annual Grand Gesture as a token of allegiance to the citizens and to the land we hold so dear. So, as a gesture of the love I have for you, I have decided to build a statue of myself in the town square to celebrate my greatness.”
The crowd went wild with delight. “Please, pleeaase” continued the King, “there is no need to applaud me. It is my pleasure to gift you with something that will beautify our great land.”
“It is him, isn’t it?” Chilli whispered urgently. But she already knew the answer to her question.
“I’m sure it’s Morbidiuis. He’s using a cobra’s head so the Effluvians won’t find out he’s part hairskin. He’s been teaching them to hate us, and if they found out he’s part human...” he drew a finger across his throat. “But we know his secret. This time we’ve got the power.”