19

SWORD AND GEARS

As the doors to the prison cottages were swung open, Wily saw old friends pour out. A dozen Knights of the Golden Sun that had aided them during their search for the famed lair beast Palojax saluted the young prince upon their release. A whole kitchen’s worth of hobgoblet chefs walked into the night air with their warty fists held high. Even the giant slug from Carrion Tomb slithered out of one of the cottages, lowering her eyestalks as she exited the door.

“I am going to need all of your help,” Wily shouted to the crowd that was gathering in the courtyard of the prisonaut.

“As always, our loyalty lies with you,” Spraved, the Knight of the Golden Sun and commander of Halberd Keep, said with a salute.

“And I’ll shake and slime anyone you ask me to,” the giant slug added.

“I may be the prince,” Wily continued. “But I am not your ruler. It is your choice if you want to march on the royal palace.”

“If you are trying to dissuade us from joining you,” Valor shouted, “you’re doing a bad job.”

“We want to see Stalag get justice as much as you do,” a familiar voice cackled out from behind the hobgoblets.

Wily turned to see the Skull of Many Riddles floating in the air, surrounded by green flames. “What’s satisfying and sweet but you can’t put in your mouth to eat?” Then it answered its own riddle: “Revenge.” The skull let out a laugh. “I like riddles that aren’t funny so much better!”

“We stand with you, Wily,” Spraved shouted. “You have earned our trust.”

A chorus of cheers echoed through the prisonaut’s courtyard. Wily smiled, encouraged by their belief in him.

“Just be aware,” Wily said, “that we will be joined by an unexpected ally. The Infernal King.”

The entire gathering of prisoners murmured with confusion as Kestrel stepped into the open before them. Wily wondered if their trust had just vanished.

“Are you crazy?” a knight called out. “That tyrant will never be a friend to us.”

“I’m a changed man,” Kestrel called out, setting off more murmurs.

“If I can stand beside him,” Wily said, “you should be able to as well.”

“He’s your father,” someone else yelled from the crowd. “Of course you forgave him.”

“Which is why it was all the harder.”

There was more muttering and grumbling from the crowd.

“I said it once,” Spraved said, “and I will say it again, we trust you.”

“Everyone should board the ship,” Lumina said in her most commanding voice. “There is an imposter in the royal palace. Our first priority is removing him. Then we will deal with the Infernal King. And deal with him we will.”

That last comment got a cheer from the crowd. The crowd of freed prisoners moved past the bound boarcus, who were seated back-to-back in the courtyard of the prisonaut, and toward the great armored ship jutting through the outer wall.

Agorop and Sceely were also tied up and being led by Jayrus to the ship.

“Let us stay here in the prison,” Agorop pleaded. “There be no needing to take us anywhere.”

“No one is listening to your begging, you web-footed fool,” Sceely snapped at him as Moshul pushed them ahead.

“And no one should,” Jayrus said, tugging them along. “You two are incredibly rude and inconsiderate. I need to teach you both some manners.”

As Wily walked along the cobblestoned ground he spied Pryvyd standing with Lumina. They were embracing each other tenderly.

“I was so worried about you,” Lumina said.

“I should have told you months ago how I felt,” Pryvyd said. “I shouldn’t have waited until it was too late.”

“Pryvyd,” Lumina said, “now is not the time.”

“No, it is exactly the time. Before battle. Before danger. Before I may never get the chance to say it again.”

Pryvyd gathered up enough courage and spoke.

“I care deeply about you,” the Knight of the Golden Sun said, “and I am not just saying that because the man you were once married to is standing a hundred yards away. When I was stuck on those islands, I kept thinking that if you had been there I would never have needed to leave. Although maybe not the one with the giant mosquitoes. Even if you were there it would have been pretty awful. I’m rambling now.”

Lumina gave him a gentle kiss on the cheek. “I had a hunch that’s how you felt about me. But it is nice to hear it nonetheless.”

Wily smiled at the thought of Pryvyd and his mother together. They loved each other and he loved them both as well. It was like a tight family growing even tighter.

Valor came up behind Wily and stood alongside him. “I don’t know how much more mushy stuff I can take,” she said. Then she took Wily’s hand. “Perhaps a little more.”

This caught Wily completely off guard. He looked down at her fingers touching his. Was this some mistake? Perhaps. Because as soon as she saw him staring down at her fingers she pulled them away. Wily watched as Valor continued along, heading to the boat. Odette, Moshul, and Roveeka moved up behind Wily.

“There’s a lot of kissing and hand-holding,” Roveeka said from her perch on Moshul’s shoulders. “But I’m not seeing a lot of hugging. I think I can change that.”

Roveeka wrapped her arms tightly around the big mud golem. He gently patted her bald head with his hand. The hugtopus moved over and got in on the action too. Moshul signed: Thanks. I needed that. Odette put a hand on Wily’s shoulder. “Mortal danger seems to make love grow stronger. Between friends and between people who are more than friends.”

“What are we, then?” Wily asked.

“Family,” Odette said with a smile. “One big family.”

Wily felt like giving Odette a big hug. So he did. His nose was filled with the smell of slightly spoiled yams, a sticky-sweet aroma he found delightful.

“Can you believe we are still wearing pajamas?” Odette said. “I’m really looking forward to changing into a fresh pair of pants. And, by Glothmurk, you could use a clean shirt.”

Wily looked down at the tattered nightshirt he was wearing, which sent the two into a fit of giggles.

“Glad both of you are in good spirits,” Pryvyd said as he and Lumina came up beside them. “We’ll need all the strength of spirit we can muster.” Lumina was staring through the hole in the prisonaut wall. Then she scratched her head in confusion.

“Is that a sailing ship? On land? With wheels?”

“That’s another long story,” Wily said. “We can tell you on the way to the royal palace.”


AFTER AN HOUR of traveling the crooked road known as Trumpet Pass, the Recluself’s ship came to a stop just outside the orchards. Wily could see that Stalag’s gearfolk and snagglecarts were stationed in a line to defend the wall of the royal palace from intruders. It was an intimidating sight. Black smoke drifted off the gearfolks’ ax blades. Spears of crackling energy had been mounted on the sides of the snagglecarts, as if the machines themselves hadn’t been scary enough without them. On the high tower’s balcony, Stalag stood like a lone twig growing out from the stone.

“This battle will be for the freedom of all Panthasos,” Odette said to Wily as she stood by his side. “And I’ve got to say, life was a lot easier when all I wanted to do was get away from this place rather than save it.” She paused for a moment and then continued: “But who ever said life should be easy?”

Stalag, with his arms crossed, looked down at Wily and his friends. Then the mage began to speak. His words, enchanted by some deep magic, were magnified louder than thunder.

“What a precious reunion,” Stalag said sarcastically. “Father and son, finally together.”

“We have a common goal now,” Wily shouted up to him. “Defeating you.”

“After what he did to you?” Stalag laughed. “If you only knew how he told me to treat you, you wouldn’t be so ready to forgive and forget.”

“Don’t listen to him,” Kestrel said. “He’s a bitter and jealous old mage.”

“I followed your whims,” Stalag said. “Or at least I made you think that I was.”

Wily looked over at Kestrel, who was now avoiding eye contact with his son.

“He said I should never show you kindness,” Stalag continued, “in order to make you weak in spirit. And to never let you eat too much because it would make you strong in body. He told me to lock you in a cage if you misbehaved or tried to escape. Even I couldn’t be so cruel.”

“Lies,” Kestrel insisted.

Wily wondered how much of what Stalag was saying was actually true. He suspected more than Kestrel would admit.

“I don’t care if you believe me,” Stalag said. “I’ll kill you both just the same. I’ll kill you all.”

“Don’t be so sure,” Wily said.

“I may not have stone golems this time,” Stalag said, “but I have something far more potent. Machines and magic together.”

“We’ve brought machines of our own,” Wily called back. He gave a signal, and Pryvyd and Righteous, together wearing the Master Suit, came marching toward the edge of the ship, the ubergearfolk following in line behind them.

Stalag seemed unperturbed. “How fitting this will be, Kestrel,” he shouted. “Your old machines against your new ones. It is like a battle against yourself. I will enjoy watching from on high. Gearfolk! Stop that”—Stalag pointed to the amphibious sailing ship—“thing, whatever it is.”

“It’s the Daring,” the Recluself called out. “That’s the name I have given it.”

“When I take it from you, it will make a great addition to my army,” Stalag said as he rubbed his fingertips together.

Dozens of snagglecarts came rolling down toward the amphibious ship. The first two dragon-shaped carts, with spears pointed forward and ready for battering, made contact with the front wheels of the Daring as it rolled ahead. The spears crackled with magic upon contact, but didn’t stop the Recluself’s ship. The force of the giant rolling vehicle crushed the snagglecarts, flattening them underfoot. Wily watched as the rust fairies fled the machines before they were flattened too. Four more snagglecarts struck the rolling boat immediately after, their spears getting imbedded in the wooden hull. Two of the enhanced snagglecarts were rolled over easily by the ship. The next two, however, got caught in the wheel wells, grinding the amphibious vehicle to a stop with an ear-piercing screech.

“They didn’t break through the ship,” Wily said, concerned, “but they did manage to break it.”

“Wily, Pryvyd,” Kestrel said. “We have only one chance at this. I know how the gearfolk were built. I know how to defeat them. Let me prove to you that I am not the man I used to be.”

“Just tell me how it can be done,” Pryvyd said. “I will follow your suggestions.”

“I know just where to hit them below the neck,” Kestrel said. “If you fail, we all fail.”

Pryvyd was already shaking his head when Wily said, “Let him. I trust he will do the right thing.”

Pryvyd relented. He slid off the armor and handed it to Kestrel. Righteous, however, was less keen to give in.

“Take it off,” Pryvyd said.

Righteous tried to fly away, but Pryvyd caught him and detached the plating from the hovering arm. Kestrel put the armor on and tested a swing of his sword. All the ubergearfolk followed suit.

“Let’s hurry up!” Odette shouted.

“Follow my lead,” Kestrel said to Lumina.

“There’s no one who knows how to break what you build better than I,” Lumina said, as she pulled a scarf across her face. “I’ve had lots of practice.”

Impish and Gremlin raised their paws as if to remind Lumina they were there too. Lumina looked over to her two furry sidekicks.

“With your help, of course,” Lumina said to them. “I would have just been a rogue wearing scarves without my loyal ferret saboteurs.”

This made the two ferrets smile broadly.

Kestrel put the helmet of the Master Suit on his head and marched down the ramp as the army of eversteel gearfolk followed.

Kestrel and Lumina rushed into battle with the gearfolk. Lumina darted through the opposing army, leaping onto the shoulders of one of Stalag’s magical mechanical minions. The gearfolk swung its enchanted ax at Wily’s mother, but she was able to spin out of the way of the sharpened blade. With a series of twists, she popped off the head of the mechanical man, sending the rust fairy flitting off in terror. Impish dove into a rolling machine and with her small hands broke it apart from the inside, causing its wheels to come rolling off and its arms to snap out of place. Gremlin had a more explosive tactic, twisting the inner workings of another and causing it to explode in fits of smoke and flying gears. Magical axes were of little use to the gearfolk when they were separated from their arms.

Kestrel, meanwhile, led his army of ubergearfolk into battle with unwavering confidence. He seemed to delight in the combat, swinging his sword like the conductor of an oglodyte orchestra, every minion following commands as if their lives depended on it. Kestrel struck the old gearfolk in the armored gut, dispatching them with simple precision. Then, with a uniform kick, he knocked his former soldiers to the ground and marched over them. The rust fairies controlling Stalag’s gearfolk never even got to swing their weapons.

“You should have stayed in your tomb,” Kestrel called up to Stalag. “You were never destined to rule the Above.”

“You think that I was your pawn?” Stalag said. “No. You were always mine. I knew that if you were taken out of the picture, this land would be mine. Don’t think for a second that you were smarter than me.”

“Look around you,” Kestrel snorted. “Who is wise and who is not?”

Stalag clenched his brittle fists as he looked down upon his army being crushed underfoot.

Kestrel and Lumina were joined on the battlefield by the goblin chefs, the Knights of the Golden Sun, and the giant slug, who all did their part to combat the gearfolk. Even the Skull of Many Riddles was trying to bite the rust fairies out of the gearfolk armor. Despite the danger and chaos, it was a beautiful sight. Wily’s friends from all through his life were joined together, working as one, as a team. They fought arm in arm even if they didn’t have arms.

“How am I doing, Wily?” the giant slug said as she tossed a gearfolk across the battlefield.

“I couldn’t have done it any better.”

Roveeka and her fellow knife-tossing hobgoblets had seized control of a snagglecart and were driving it through the battlefield, catching gearfolk in its large metal mouth.

“Over there,” commanded Roveeka, pointing to a group of metal men engaged with Spraved and the Knights of the Golden Sun.

“You got it, Grand Slouch!” A palace hobgoblet turned the snagglecart toward the knights in danger as Roveeka hopped off the top of the steel machine and onto Moshul’s back.

Wily glanced up to see the growing anger on Stalag’s face.

“This isn’t over yet!” the cavern mage shouted as he raised his arms overhead and fired off bolts of energy at Kestrel’s eversteel soldiers. The electrical jolts just bounced off harmlessly. Enraged, Stalag tossed a scorpion from the balcony, which grew in size as it flew through the air. By the time it hit the ground, it was as large as a crab dragon.

“We need to get to Stalag,” Wily said. “We can’t let him escape again. Once he realizes his magic won’t win the day, he’s going to take off on his giant cricket.”

“But how do we get up to the balcony before he disappears inside the castle?” Odette asked. “Are you going to build another flying machine?”

“There’s no time for that.”

Wily thought back to just over a week before, when he was standing up on that balcony rather than looking at it from the ground. So much had changed since he had fallen into Moshul’s waiting arms. If only he could go back to that moment—

“I can’t get up there,” Wily said suddenly to Odette, “but you can.”

“Moshul,” Wily turned to the moss golem, “you were able to catch us when we fell off the balcony. Now I need you to throw Odette back up onto it. With her gymnastic skills, she should be able to stick the landing without getting hurt.”

Both Moshul and Odette were considering.

“If he threw me high enough, far enough, and with proper aim, then yes,” Odette said. “But otherwise…”

Moshul began signing. I feel a whole lot better about catching people than throwing them.

“You’ve got the best knife tosser sitting on your shoulder,” Wily said. “She can teach you how to throw. But you don’t have a lot of time for practice.”

The giant scorpion was attempting to crush the eversteel soldiers in its pincers, but Kestrel’s army’s armor was too powerful. They fearlessly marched forward as the stinger tried to stab them. There was no need for them to dodge or have quick reflexes; they were impenetrable.

It was practice time for Moshul. The moss golem picked up a fallen gearfolk and tossed it underhand toward the balcony. The suit of armor flew upward, looking, at first, like it was heading in the proper direction before missing the balcony and smacking against the wall. It dropped down, hitting the rocks at the edge of the moat with a sickening thud.

“Maybe this isn’t such a good idea after all,” Odette said.

“You can’t throw it underhand,” Roveeka said. “You won’t get enough control. Try overhand instead.”

The mud golem nodded.

“You’ll get it this time,” the hobgoblet encouraged him.

He picked up the next gearfolk and this time threw overhand. The suit of armor smashed hard into a high portion of the wall before crashing below.

“Huh,” Roveeka said. “That technique always works for me when I’m throwing knives.”

“She’s not a knife,” Pryvyd shouted as he realized what was about to happen. “Wily, we’ve got to try something else. I’m not letting her get hurt. Send me instead.”

Odette pushed Pryvyd out of the way, grabbing a sword from the ground. “No way. This is my turn to be the big hero. I know that. Throw me, Moshul!”

Moshul picked Odette up and launched her into the sky. Wily wasn’t sure if it was Moshul’s aim or the way in which Odette positioned her body, but the elf soared like an arrow (or perhaps like a well-balanced knife) straight for the balcony. Wily watched as Odette caught the edge of the stone railing and vaulted herself up onto the balcony. Even from this distance, Wily could tell that Stalag was so startled to see her that he nearly stumbled off the side. She pointed her sword at the frail wizard’s chest.

Stalag raised his hand and shouted down below. “Rust fairies, put down your weapons. I surrender!”

The rust fairies zipped out of the suits of armor and fled into the sky. All the gearfolk fell to the ground limp and lifeless. The goblin chefs cheered as the Knights of the Golden Sun raised their arms in celebration.

“The king shall take his seat on the throne again,” Pryvyd cried.

“Yes, I will,” Kestrel said. Then he spun around and smashed Pryvyd over the head with the blunt end of his sword.